


Blood Ties

by Sorka42



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Character Bashing, F/M, Gen, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Season/Series 03A AU, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 01:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorka42/pseuds/Sorka42
Summary: One person's victory is another's failure. Hunter families don't like to lose. The pack is barely recovered from defeating the Alpha Pack and the Darach when things take a turn for the worse.





	1. Blood Feud

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Spring Rough Trade challenge: "Battle of the Five Fandoms."  
> The idea being, you take one of the five fandoms listed and you write a story broken into five or more episodes of between 5-15k for each. Making a 'season story arch' that spanned all five episodes.

 

 

Dr. Alan. Deaton had sent the last of his employees home for the evening, sitting at his desk doing some paperwork, when there was a pounding on his back door. Deaton walked quickly to the door, there were two possibilities, someone had an emergency of the animal kind or the supernatural kind. As he opened the door he was taken aback when Peter Hale pushed his way past him.

 

“Shut the door,” the werewolf hissed. He was partially shifted, eyes glowing purple, fangs extended.

 

“This is unexpected, Peter,” Alan said, calmly. “Are you alright.”

 

“I am not alright,” Peter said, tightly. “Someone decided to use me for target practice.” He stood a little straighter and pulled back his leather jacket to expose the bleeding wound on his side.

 

“Come with me,” Alan said and lead him to the room he used to examine large animals. He pulled out a tray of surgical instruments. “Why isn't this healing?”

 

“That, my dear doctor, is a very good question,” Peter hissed through his teeth. He stripped off his jacket and ruined shirt. The bleeding showed no signs of slowing.

 

“Lay down on the table,” Alan ordered. “I won't be able to treat you standing up.”

 

“Make it quick,” Peter said, doing as he was told. “I can't be sure I wasn't followed.”

 

Sometime later Alan was holding the bullet between a pair of tweezers, staring at it with a mixture of fascination and horror. “That was not what I was expecting.”

 

“Are those runes carved onto that bullet?” Peter asked, sitting up. The moment the bullet was removed from his side, his natural healing ability took over. While he was still weak, he looked much better than he had only minutes before.

 

“They most certainly are,” Alan confirmed. He placed it in a dish to wash it off but paused as the bell for the front door went off. Both men looked at each other warily.

 

“Are you expecting anyone else tonight?” Peter asked.

 

“No,” Alan replied. “Stay here.”

 

He carefully washed off the blood from his hands and removed the blood stained lab coat, replacing it with a fresh one. He waited a moment as the bell rang again before opening the door. The pair on the other side were dressed in shades of gray and black. The woman was short with auburn hair and green eyes, she was young, in her late teens early twenties. The man was taller, short cropped hair that had gone white with age, his eyes were so light blue that they had tipped more to gray, but he was extremely fit and had a well-trimmed beard.

 

“I'm sorry, but the office is closed,” Alan said evenly. “Is this an emergency?”

 

“We're from animal control,” The woman said tightly. “We're on the trail of a feral dog, have you seen one.”

 

Alan nearly rolled his eyes but refrained. “Animal control is handled by the local Sheriff's department. Shall we try this again?”

 

“I'm-,” she began but was cut off

 

“Enough wasting time. Where is the wolf?” the man demanded.

 

“I assure you, there are no wolves in California,” Alan replied. “I would also like to point out that hunting of any kind is prohibited inside Beacon Hills. If you have a problem with that, perhaps you should take it up with the proper authorities.”

 

They stared at him for a long moment. “I would think twice about protecting the creatures that reside in this cursed town, druid,” the man said menacingly. “This has nothing to do with you, but your status will not protect you if you get in our way.”

 

Alan gave him a mildly reproachful look. “Have a good evening,” he said before shutting and locking the door in their faces. He turned to see Peter who had been watching from the shadows. “It seems there are new players in town.”

 

“So it seems,” Peter said, his expression was guarded.

 

“Would you like to rest up,” Alan asked. “I have some tea that is quite soothing,”

 

“You know I don't drink anything I don't brew myself,” Peter sneered, distrust evident in his voice despite the having been under the druids care only minutes before.

 

“Then perhaps you should inform the Alpha of what happen,” Alan replied sharply.

 

Peter looked down at the bullet in his hand. “Perhaps, I should.”

 

**

 

Stiles shifted in his seat as he waited for class to end. The majority of his classmates were still working on the final exam, but he had finished it ten minutes ago and was bored. The substitute teachers that had been brought in were doing a good job of keeping everyone up to speed, but it still felt like they were all behind the curve this year.

 

Every school loses a teacher or two each year, whether it be for medical or personal reasons, but Beacon Hills had lost a dozen teachers in the last two years. Most of whom had died in horrific ways that had shaken the school to the core. Some of the teaching staff were actively looking for work in other districts. Fear was the motivating factor, fear that they would somehow meet the same fate as their colleagues.

 

Not that Stiles could blame them. Between the Argent family infiltrating the school, the English teacher turning out to be an evil druid, and the human sacrifice victims, he probably would be looking for alternatives, and to hell with tenure.

 

Stiles turned his attention to the people in his class. Several of the McCall Pack were here with him. Issac was chewing on his pen, looking worried. Next to him, Aiden was leaning away from the test on his desk like it was personally offending him. Lydia was sitting at the front of the class calmly filing her nails, since she had finished just as quickly as Stiles had. Scott was focused so hard on the test, Stile was half expecting his friend to start showing fangs or claws.

 

He frowned a little, he hadn't seen much of Scott lately. His best friend was focused on being a good Alpha for his pack. Taking them out on runs in the preserve and helping each of them find an anchor. Which was ironic, since Allison had been Scott's first anchor and their breakup hadn't done anything to improve Scott's personal control. He seemed to be doing better this week, but Stiles hadn't really had a chance to talk to him.

 

There was a distance between them lately, one that had begun not long after Scott had been turned into a werewolf. It had been little things, but over the past few months, it had gotten larger. They were still friends, brothers in all but blood. But Scott's duty to the Pack often took precedence over a request for a quiet night of eating popcorn and watching awful movies. Maybe it was childish, but there were days that Stiles missed the time when it was just the two of them trying to survive high school.

 

He touched his chest with his hand and took in a deep breath, grateful that the pneumonia and deep rattling cough that had come with it were gone. A souvenir form deliberately drowning in order to see through the 'veil' and find the Nemeton. Of course, Scott and Allison had been fine, with no serious side effects, but they were protected by what they were. Scott was a werewolf and Allison had never been sick a day in her life. Stiles, on the other hand, had ended up in the hospital a week after everything had calmed down.

 

The time he spent hooked up to an IV while fighting for every breath had not been fun. Neither was trying to spin a story plausible enough to explain how he could have drowned in the middle of winter because of course, the chest x-ray had shown water in his lungs. Scott hadn't been any help at all, he had adamantly refused to allow Stiles to tell his father the truth.

 

He was pulled out of his ruminations when he saw Lydia stiffen in her seat. He couldn't see her expression since she was in front of him, but he could actually see all the color draining from her skin until she was deathly pale. The nail file in her hand fell to the ground with a soft clack. She stood from her desk, her head cocked as if listening to something.

 

“Lydia?” Stiles said quietly. It clicked in his head a second later what was about to happen. He had just enough time to shout, “Cover your ears!” Before she tilted her head back and screamed.

 

Every pane of glass in the room shattered, exploding outward from the full force of a Banshee's cry. Mr. Hornish was thrown into the blackboard and knocked to the ground. The students to either side of her scrambled to get away, blood coming from their ears.

 

“Lydia stop!” Scott shouted or at least tried to. Even putting a roar into his voice did nothing to counter the wall of sound she was producing.

 

What should have only lasted a few seconds went on and on reverberating through the room until the wall clock shattered and the lights above their heads started exploding one after the other showering them all with glass and sparks of electricity.

 

Aiden crawled toward her from behind and wrapped his arms around her. He said something into her ear and suddenly as she has started she stopped. She collapsed into his arms and began to sob uncontrollably. “My mom,” she gasped. “My mom is dead.”

 

**

 

John Stilinski walked through the ruin that had been Hall B in Beacon Hills High School with a grim expression. The damage radiated outward from room B-6 for one hundred feet in every direction. Nothing with any sort of glass survived, not even eyeglasses. Luckily, other than Mr. Hornish, there has been no major injuries. The substitute English teacher had a concussion and his eardrums had both burst.

 

He turned to Deputy Parrish who was the first on the scene. “What can you tell me?”

 

“Sir, near as I can figure a sonic boom went off right inside the classroom,” he scratched his head and looked down at his notes. “Witnesses said they heard a scream at the same time as the explosion occurred. The problem is there is no evidence of anything in or around the room that might have caused it.”

 

“Right,” John rubbed the back of his head. “Keep me updated.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Parrish replied. “Your son is waiting for you.”

 

John paused, then let out a breath. “He was in the classroom when it happened?”

 

“Yeah,” Parrish replied. “Along with Scott McCall and Issac Lahey.”

 

“Of course,” John grunted. “Where is he?”

 

“He's in the nurse's office,” Parrish replied.

 

“Is he alright?” John asked.

 

“Some minor scratches and he had glass in his hair, the nurse was helping pick it out.”

 

“Thanks,” John turned walked to the nurse's office, as he turned the corner he paused and ducked back when he saw his son and Scott McCall facing one another. He had been at his job for a long time and there was no mistaking the hostile posturing between the two young men.

 

“I'm telling you for the last time, Stiles,” Scott said. “Your father stays out of this. You were the one that wanted to protect him.”

 

“That was before he was nearly sacrificed to a fucking tree,” Stiles shot back. “A tree that, we still haven't dealt with in any meaningful way.”

 

“Deaton said the Nemeton should go dormant again now that no one is messing with it,” Scott replied.

 

“You're missing the point, Scott,” Stiles shot back. “He has a right to know. I should have told him a long time ago.”

 

“It isn't about you,” Scott retorted. “You tell him and that affects all of us.”

 

“Yeah, it does,” Stiles replied. “And maybe if he knew the truth, he wouldn't be wondering if someone had set off a bomb in the school and that maybe he wouldn't be thinking about calling in the FBI or Homeland Security. Which, by the way, would affect all of us.”

 

Scott shoved Stiles against the wall. “You keep your fucking mouth shut, do you understand?”

 

Stiles shoved Scott off of him. “Yeah, I understand.”

 

Scott gave him one last glare before he walked away down the hall. One of the Stein twins was waiting for him near the exit and they walked out of the school together.

 

John decided it was time to show himself. “Stiles, are you alright?” His son looked up at him with an expression that he hadn't seen since Claudia had died. A mix of anger and hope that seemed too complex for the little boy he remembered but seemed a recurring theme in their lives now. “Stiles?” It looked for a long moment like he wasn't going to answer.

 

“No,” Stiles admitted finally. “I'm so far from alright I'm not even in the same galaxy.”

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” John asked.

 

“Can you trust that what I'm going to say is the complete truth, as far as I know?” he asked quietly.

 

John frowned. “I can try.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles breathed out. “I need you to put out an APB for Lydia Martin's car.”

 

“Excuse me?” John didn't know what to think of the request. “Was it stolen?”

 

“No,” Stiles explained. “Lydia's mother borrowed it this morning because her car was in the shop getting detailed. I picked Lydia up this morning and brought her to school.”

 

“What does that have to do with what happened here?”

 

“Lydia is... special,” Stiles said. “Not in the 'I've been obsessed with her since elementary school' kind of special, I mean she has a sixth sense for death. That was how she kept finding the victims of that ritual.” Stiles started talking faster. “She thinks she felt her mother died. That was why she screamed, that's why the room exploded. I tried calling her mother's cell phone but it goes straight to voicemail.”

 

“You know that sounds crazy, right?” John said.

 

“I know,” Stiles said a little desperately. “But, please, just find her, for Lydia's sake.”

 

“Alright, I'll put out a bulletin to keep an eye out for it,” John promised.

 

“Thank you,” Stiles looked like he was going to collapse with relief.

 

“On one condition,” John said.

 

“Name it,” Stiles replied.

 

“You and I are going to have a long talk,” John said. “And you're going to tell me what it is that you and Scott were fighting about just now.”

 

Stiles winced. “You saw that, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” John replied.

 

“Okay, deal,” Stiles said. He looked supremely uncomfortable but also determined.

 

“Why don't you go home, take a shower,” John suggested. “I'll call you if I learn anything.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles said. He turned to go, but John pulled him into a hug. Stiles wrapped his arms around him in return. In that moment, he realized his son was shaking. He didn't say anything though, just held him for a long moment, before he had to return to work.

 

**

 

Derek Hale was in his apartment, having lunch with his sister, Cora, when they both heard Lydia scream. His first instinct was to run to the school and find out what had happened, but as he was about to leave there was a knock on the door. He opened the door to find himself face to face with his uncle. “Peter, where have you been?” he asked.

 

“I've been around,” Peter shrugged. “Keeping an eye on our territory, something the new alpha seems to be neglecting.”

 

Derek grimaced. It was no secret that Scott didn't see a point in patrolling the borders of Beacon Hills. Scott's self elevation to Alpha status was a sore spot for Peter, especially after Derek had used every ounce of power he'd had to heal Cora, who had been poisoned and was dying. “Can we not go over my failings as an Alpha, again?”

 

Peter suddenly looked contrite. “You weren't prepared for the power and responsibility of an alpha. Unlike other members of our family, you were never trained for it. I put you in an impossible position and that is on me.” He looked at Cora who carefully kept her expression bland. “However, there are more pressing issues at hand.” He reached into his pocket and produced a strange looking bullet. “We have a new set of players on the field and they are not following the standard rulebook.”

 

“What is that?” Cora asked, taking the bullet and examining it. “Where did you get it?”

 

“I was shot last night,” Peter said evenly. “Just inside the northern edge of the preserve. Fortunately, I was able to get to Deaton before I bled out.”

 

“A bullet can't kill us, not a normal one,” Cora reminded him.

 

“Yes, but bullets carved with runes that suppress healing can,” Peter replied. “Someone with a great deal of skill and knowledge made this bullet and I am quite certain there are more where this came from.”

 

“We need to warn the rest of the pack,” Derek said.

 

“Yes, we do,” Peter replied evenly. “I think, however, that they might be a little preoccupied for a while. A banshee screaming in the middle of school will have cause quite a bit of disruption, so maybe we should wait a little while.”

 

Derek grimaced. “Alright, tell me everything you know about these hunters.”

 

“Unfortunately,” Peter began. “I really don't know all that much. They have us at a disadvantage since they seem to know enough about Beacon Hills to know I would run to Deaton for help. Luckily the man did not allow the hunters inside.”

 

“But he didn't contact Scott about you being shot?” Cora asked.

 

“Funny that,” Peter said dryly. “The druid has a very odd sense of neutrality.”

 

“I don't trust him,” Cora replied.

 

“Well, you're smarter than the Alpha then,” Peter replied. “Bit of a power imbalance there.”

 

Derek grimaced. “The hunters, Peter, what else can you tell us.”

 

“There were two, an older man, perhaps a few years older than Chris Argent,” Peter replied. “And a woman about Cora's age. I believe they were driving a later model Land Rover, the type designed for off-road use, not some dressed up luxury car. I'm certain they were just the first to arrive, they always travel in packs.” He paused, his eyes distant. “There was something about their scent, something familiar, but I can't place it. I'll have to think on it a while.”

 

“Right,” Derek shook his head. “I'll call Scott, tell him we need a meeting tonight.”

 

“As his Pro Tempore, you can call a meeting on your own,” Peter reminded him. “It is part of your duties.”

 

“Scott doesn't want me as his second,” Derek reminded Peter. “He'll probably choose Issac or Stiles as his second. He'd rather have Ethan or Aiden over me, but no one else in the pack would listen to them.”

 

“Yes, the homicidal, former alpha twins,” Peter scoffed. “For a man that condemned you for allowing me back into the fold, Scott certainly is able to change his tune when it suits him.”

 

Derek didn't say anything thing to that. He had argued against allowing the twins to stay. They had the blood of innocents on their hands and that was something that Derek would never be able to forgive. Scott, however, felt they deserved a chance at some sort of redemption, whatever that meant. Redemption was for those that felt guilt, the twins were opportunists. They took McCall's offer of peace far too easily for Derek's comfort.

 

“As for Stiles...” Peter trailed off. “I highly doubt Scott would choose him as his second.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Derek asked. “He's Scott's best friend.”

 

“Hmm, true,” Peter agreed. “But with the new powers of an alpha and the needs of his wolves pulling at him, he seems to be forgetting that. You remember what that was like, Derek. The need for Pack, the need for family. It can affect your ability to think clearly. I should know, I bit Scott after all.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Cora asked.

 

“You were lucky enough to find shelter with a large, strong pack,” Derek said. “You said it yourself, you were safe. Small packs run the risk of getting overrun by hunters or other packs looking to expand their territory.”

 

“The instinct to create a strong pack is very hard to resist,” Peter explained. “In my madness, I bit the first solitary person I ran across. I honestly doubt Derek would have turned Jackson Whitmoore if the need for a larger pack had not been so strong.”

 

“Scott hasn't turned anyone,” Derek grimaced.

 

“No, he hasn't,” Peter replied. “Which makes it a very good thing that he and the Argent girl broke up.”

 

“Okay, now I'm lost,” Cora said.

 

“Tell me,” Peter said leaning back against the kitchen island. “How are wolves made?”

 

“Well, there are born wolves, like us,” Cora said. “Then there are bitten wolves.”

 

“Exactly,” Peter replied. “How long do you think it would have taken Scott McCall, the boy that couldn't be bothered to keep it in his pants long enough to learn control of his wolf, before he decided that biting his best friend or better yet, knocking up his lady love, were fabulous ideas?”

 

“He wouldn't!” Cora replied, horrified.

 

“He has no wolves that are blood-related. He may carry the Hale legacy, but he does not see us as family,” Peter said coldly. “He is a little boy that has gone from human to beta to Alpha in less than two years. No matter how many wolves he allows into his ragtag little pack, it will not be enough until he makes his own, one way or another.”

 

“I need to talk to Stiles,” Derek said. “He needs to know.”

 

“That is the first sensible thing you've said all day,” Peter said, smiling.

 

**

 

Stiles waited impatiently for his father to return home. He had gone into his room and pulled out the tri-fold board and the flash drive that he had hidden under his bed which contained a well-thought-out and annotated presentation that he had created just for this purpose. He looked it over and quickly wrote out notes on five by seven cards which showed how things had changed over time.

 

He was just about ready to call his father to see when he was coming home when the phone rang. “Hello?” he said.

 

“Stiles,” his father said. He sounded very tired. “I'm sorry, I'm not going to be back for another few hours at least.”

 

“What's wrong?” Stiles asked.

 

“State patrol found Lydia's car. It looks like it lost control and rolled down the side of a hill,” John said. “Natalie was found unresponsive and was pronounced dead by the medics at the scene.”

 

“Oh my god,” Stiles sank to the floor, his heart beating hard.

 

“How did she know?” John asked quietly.

 

“I swear I'll tell you everything,” Stiles said softly. “Just as soon as you come home.”

 

“I'll be there as soon as I can,” John said.

 

“Okay,” Stiles said. “How is Lydia taking it?”

 

“She was admitted to the hospital for observation,” John said. “They have a grief counselor working with her. We've contacted her father, he'll be here in the morning. I have to go, the state forensic team is here to look over the car.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles swallowed hard. “I talk to you later.”

 

“In the morning,” John promised before ending the call.

 

Stiles took a deep breath before he decided he needed to call Scott. It rang as he was about to hit 'send', startling him enough to fumble with it for a few seconds. The screen read “Sourwolf” to identify the caller. “Hey, Derek, what's going on?”

 

“Where are you?” Derek demanded.

 

“I'm at my house,” he replied.

 

“Is Scott with you?”

 

“No, he's...” Stiles looked around sort of at a loss. “Actually, I have no idea where he is at the moment. What's going on?”

 

“We need to talk,” Derek replied.

 

“Okay, can you be a little less vague?” Stiles asked. “ Because a lot of shit has happened and I need to prioritize.”

 

“I heard Lydia scream,” Derek admitted. “What happened?”

 

“I don't really know,” Stiles began. “But I think she felt her mother die.”

 

“Natalie Martin is dead?” Peter asked suddenly on the phone. “How?”

 

“She died in a car crash,” Stiles said tiredly. “I don't know all the details yet, but my dad is investigating it as we speak.”

 

“Can you come here, right now?” Derek asked, obviously taking the phone back from his uncle. “I'm calling a pack meeting, but I want you here first.”

 

“Yeah, I'll be there in ten minutes,” Stiles replied. He looked at his presentation and sighed. It would have to wait.

 

**

 

“Sir,” Deputy Parrish came into John's office. “I think you need to come down to the garage.”

 

“What's going on, Jordan?” John asked.

 

“The forensic guys found something that you're going to want to see.”

 

John grabbed his coffee on the way. It was looking more and more like this was going to be an all-nighter. He sent a mental apology to his son, who genuinely seemed to want to talk. He just hoped Stiles was still in a sharing mood when they finally saw one another.

 

“Okay,” he said, entering the garage.

 

“Sheriff, I'm Nancy Waters, lead examiner,” a woman with intricately braided hair pulled back into a bun.

 

“Nice to meet you, Nancy,” he replied. “What can you tell me?”

 

“First and foremost,” she began. “This was no accident.”

 

“Excuse me?” John stopped short.

 

“The car was sabotaged,” she said. “We found a small electronic device glued to the back of the accelerator pedal. We're not exactly sure what it does, but from what we can determine the car's throttle was wide open and brakes weren't applied at any point in the last five minutes of driving. It must have been a terrifying ordeal for the driver.”

 

“you're sure it wasn't some sort of parts failure?” John asked, needing to be sure.

 

“Very sure,” she replied. “The sabotage is blatant and obvious. It's like whoever did this wanted everyone to know what had happened.”

 

“So the question is, who would want to kill Natalie Martin?” Parrish said.

 

“No,” John replied. “That was her daughter's car. She was just borrowing it for the day. The question is, why would anyone want to kill a seventeen-year-old honor student?”

 

**

 

Stile pulled his jeep up to the warehouse that held Derek's loft apartment. He noticed Derek's car was there as well as the truck that Cora drove. He pressed the buzzer to let them know he was there. When nothing happened for several minutes he tried again. He backed up to look at the windows again, there was no reason for them not to be answering the door. He pulled on the handle and frozen when it swung open easily. He looked at the latch in dawning horror as he saw that someone had used duct tape to keep the lock from engaging. He looked from the lock to the apartment and started running.

 

He had only taken a single step when someone grabbed him from behind, cover his mouth before he could protest. He struggled in the grip but they were impossibly strong. He was pulled into the shadows of the building next door.

 

“Be still, Stiles,” Peter whispered in his ear. “You'll get us both killed.”

 

Stiles relaxed for a moment, panic turned into incredulity. “Pedur?!” he said through the werewolf's hand.

 

“I said be still,” Peter hissed. “We have an unwelcome guest.” He removed his hand from across Stiles' mouth.

 

“Where are Derek and Cora?” he demanded, quietly.

 

“Leading them on a merry chase through the rest of the building,” Peter said. “Derek sent me out to intercept you.”

 

“Who is it?”

 

“I didn't catch a face,” Peter admitted. “But they were most definitely hunters. Probably the same people that tried to kill me last night.”

 

“Last night?” Stiles stared at him. “What the hell happened last night?”

 

Peter tilted his head to the side and then inhaled deeply, ignoring his question. “Oh, that's not good.”

 

“What?” Stiles demanded.

 

“I smell gas.” There was a flash of bright light and the next thing he knew, Stiles was being covered by two hundred pounds of werewolf. Debris flew everywhere as the top floor of the building exploded.

 

“Derek!” Stiles shouted, desperately trying to get out from under Peter, who was holding him down as flaming pieces of building fell all around them. “Get off of me! Derek!”

 

“Stiles!” Derek called. He came around the far corner of the building.

 

Stile pushed Peter off of himself and ran to Derek, throwing his arms around the older man in a bone-grinding hug. “Fuck,” he said into his shoulder. “Don't you ever scare me like that again. I thought you were dead.”

 

“I'm okay,” Derek replied, wrapping his arms around Stiles' shoulders. “We're okay.”

 

“There is nothing okay about this,” Stiles said. “Absolutely nothing.”

 

“You're not kidding,” Cora said, angrily. “Everything I owned was up there!”

 

“You can always get new things,” Derek said tiredly. “I'm just glad no one got hurt.”

 

“We need to call my dad,” Stiles said tiredly. The emotional roller coaster of a day was catching up with him. “God, this day has really sucked.”

 

“I doubt that will be a problem,” Peter turned in the direction of the center of town. “I hear sirens already.”

 

“Get out of here,” Derek told him. “You can't be seen and you know it.”

 

Stiles turned to him. “Go to my house. My bedroom window is unlocked, you can get in through there.”

 

“Thank you, Stiles,” Peter replied, before ducking away. He faded into the shadows of the building and was gone.

 

A few minutes later, both the police and fire departments had arrived. John stepped out of his patrol car with a look of resignation. He spoke to his deputies and the Fire Chief for several minutes before joining them where they were sitting on the tailgate of an ambulance.“Stiles, what are you doing here? I thought you were home.”

 

“I was, but I needed to talk to Derek,” Stiles quickly explained what he had seen. “And then the whole place blew.”

 

“Okay,” John rubbed his forehead. “Have any of you given a statement yet?”

 

“Carmichael took our statements,” Derek said.

 

“Alright,” John looked at them all. “Can someone please tell me what this is and why it was tucked under the windshield wiper of Derek's car?” He presented a thick sheet of paper that had been carefully placed in an evidence bag.

 

“May I see it?” Derek asked.

 

John handed it to him and waited patiently as they all looked it over.

 

“Blood with be answered with blood.” Stiles read aloud. “Great. This is just perfect. You know what this means?” He waved the paper around in frustration.

 

“No, but I would love for you tell me,” John said.

 

Stiles opened his mouth but Derek spoke first.

 

“Not here,” Derek said softly. “Sir, I know you have a lot of questions, and you need answers only we can give you. If we could do this, somewhere less out in the open, I would really appreciate it.”

 

“If you would meet me down at the station we could take your statements,” John suggested.

 

Derek grimaced. “This isn't the sort of thing that can go on an official record.”

 

John glared at him. “Seriously?”

 

“I'm not trying to be difficult,” Derek said. “It can't be talked about or written down, because no one would believe it anyway.”

 

John looked from Derek to Stiles. “Does this have anything to do with what happened at the school today?”

 

“Tangentially,” Stiles replied, wincing.

 

“Great,” John sighed. “Okay, here is what is going to happen.” He pointed at his son. “You are going straight home. No side trips.” He pointed at Derek. “You and your sister are going to join me at the station while my officers write up your statements. After that, I will personally drive you to my house and we are going to have a little chat. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Derek said.

 

“Carmichael will drive you home,” John said to Stiles.

 

“What?” he protested. “My Jeep isn't damaged.”

 

“But it is in the radius of an active crime scene, so you can't move it,” John reminded him. “You'll get it back in the morning.”

 

“Fine,” Stiles grumbled, too tired to argue at that point. “I'll see you guys in a few hours.”

 

“Stay safe, Stiles,” Cora said.

 

“I will,” Stiles replied. He had a headache and his ears were ringing. Between Lydia's scream and the explosion he was lucky, he could hear anything at the moment. He walked over to Carmichael, who was waiting by her patrol car. “Dad said you're taking me home?”

 

“Yeah, climb in,” she said.

 

He did as he was told and sighed tiredly. Whoever had tried to kill Derek and the rest of the Hales, wasn't even trying to be discrete. Closing his eye he tried not to think about what all of this meant, not just for the pack, but for all the people of Beacon Hills.

 

 

 

**

 

Chris Argent was sitting in his office reading the latest financial reports from his business when the doorbell rang. He frowned, not expecting any visitors. Allison was currently at the hospital, having been given permission to stay with Lydia while the authorities contact the girl's father. He grabbed his pistol and tucked into the waistband of his pants before heading to the door. He looked at the security feed from the hidden camera and his frown deepened.

 

The man on the monitor was dressed in a formal three-piece suit and held himself so still, he could have been a statue. He opened the door and said, “Can I help you?”

 

“Christopher Argent?” he said.

 

“Yes,” Chris replied.

 

“This is for you,” he said. He pulled out an envelope from his suit jacket and handed it to him in an oddly formal way.

 

Chris took the thick paper envelope and turned it to see a wax seal holding it closed. The wax had a seal impressed upon it. He stared at it for a long moment. “Do they want a reply?”

 

“No sir,” he said. “Have a good evening.” He turned and walked away without looking back.

 

Chris closed the door and locked it before walking back to his office. He broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter. It was written with a fountain pen.

 

 

_In accordance_ with _the treaty finalized by the marriage between yourself, Christopher Argent and our daughter Victoria O'Donnell, you have been given time to make reparations. You have failed in your duty as both husband and hunter. This is your only warning. Do not interfere or you will be judged just as culpable in her death as the animals that killed her. Failure to obey will result in forfeiture of your rights and we will annex your progeny as compensation for our loss._

 

_Shanahan O'Donnell_

 

Chris sat back in his office chair and stared at the letter with dread filling every inch of his body. He reached for his phone and hit send. “Allison, I need you to come home.”

 

“Dad? I'm still at the hospital,” she replied. “Lydia's father hasn't arrived yet.”

 

“I figured, but I need you to come home, right now,” Chris said tightly. “If you aren't home in a half an hour I will revoke your driving privileges for the next six months.”

 

“What's going on?” she demanded.

 

“I'll tell you when you get here, now don't argue with me,” Chris replied and ended the call.

 

 

End

 

 


	2. Old Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feud escalates, leaving devastation in its wake.

Dawn was breaking as Scott stood a block away from the burned out remains of Derek's loft apartment. He watched with growing concern as the fire department worked to smother any of the remaining hot spots. There was police crime scene tape designating that he couldn't go any closer. There were several deputies keeping an eye out to make sure that no one tried anything foolish. 

He had taken Aiden, Ethan, and Issac out for a run in the preserve in order to calm them down after what had happened at the school. They had appreciated the time spent together and it was a good way to affirm the pack bond. One of the drawbacks of doing this is that any modern conveniences could break the zen-like feeling you got when you embraced the inner wolf. They normally left their cell phones on silent, so that they wouldn't be disturbed. 

After the run, the twins had decided to check on their significant others. Lydia was still at the hospital, so Aiden went there. Ethan had gone to check on Danny Melahani, who had gotten cut by flying glass. 

Scott checked his phone, there was only one message from Derek, requesting a pack meeting. The text had been sent hours ago, long before the fire had happened. He tried contacting Cora first and then Derek, but calls went straight to voicemail. 

“What the hell happened?” Issac said coming to stand next to him. 

“I don't know,” Scott replied. “I can't reach Derek or Cora.” 

“You don't think they were in there do you?” Issac asked, worried.

“If they were dead, I would have felt it,” Scott said confidently. A towing company arrived as they were watching and one by one the cars were removed from their proximity to the building. 

“Hey, isn't that Stiles' Jeep?” Issac asked as it was loaded onto the flatbed. 

Scott felt his stomach drop. “Yeah, it is.” He walked over to where Deputy Carmichael was standing. “Deputy, I was wondering what happened?” 

“You are Stiles' friend, Scott, right?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma'am,” Scott replied. “I thought I saw his car just now.”

“Well, I really can't comment on an ongoing investigation,” she said. “But, yes, that was his Jeep. He's fine, no one was seriously hurt.”

“What about the Hales, Derek, and Cora?” Scott asked. 

“As far as I know they are still at the station,” she replied. Then she gave him a stern look. “You should be moving along now. Just because school has been canceled for the day doesn't mean you get to loiter around here.” 

“Yes, Ma'am, and thank you,” Scott sighed as he walked away. “I should call Stiles, see what happened.”

“At least they are okay,” Issac said. “Come on, Scott, we should get going. Your mom said she was going to make waffles you can call him after we eat. I'm starving.”

“Right,” Scott looked back at the wreck wondering what had really happened. 

**

“Could you repeat that for me?” Allison said staring at her father in horror. 

“The O'Donnell's have declared a blood feud against the Hale Pack for your mother's death,” Chris replied tightly.

“Why?” Allison demanded. “You told me she killed herself, rather than become a werewolf.” 

“She did,” Chris replied. “But they don't see it that way. This letter was a formal declaration and a warning for to me to stay out of it.”

“So they're just going to come here and kill Derek Hale or is there more to it?” Allison demanded.

“A blood feud is just that,” Chris replied. “They are honor bound to eliminate everyone connected to the Hales in Beacon Hills.”

“But that's murder,” Allison said. “I've met my cousins, I can't even imagine any of them picking up a gun let alone killing someone in cold blood.”

“You didn't think Kate was capable of anything either,” Chris pointed out, coldly. “Hunters are very good at hiding what they really do. You know this.”

“I know,” Allison muttered. “We can't just sit by and do nothing.” 

“I have no intention of allowing them to run roughshod over my town,” Chris replied. “But Gerard was very thorough when it came to his propaganda war against the Hales and all of Beacon Hills. We have a lot of work to do to convince them that what they think they know is wrong.” 

“And how are we going to do that?” Allison asked. “We don't even know what they are planning.”

“We need to talk to the pack,” Chris said. “They need to know-” The doorbell rang. 

“Who could this be?” Allison asked. “We aren't expecting anyone.” 

“Stay behind me,” Chris warned before opening the door. His heart dropped when he looked right into the face of his brother-in-law. “Sean.” 

“Chris,” the man said. “I'd say it's good to see you again, but I know you received the letter from Mother last night.”

Chris narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I did receive it and as this is my territory I would like to know what you plan to do.”

“Aren't you going to let me in?” Sean asked. “It's rude to have conversations in doorways.”

“Maybe,” Chris replied. “But, I think threatening to kidnap my daughter is a hell of a lot ruder.”

“Please,” Sean chuckled. “Do you really think my mother has any intention of taking Allison away from you?” He turned his eyes to her. “Nice to see you again, Ally”

“Uncle Sean,” Allison replied. “Good to see you, is Meghan with you?” 

“Meghan is back at the hotel,” he said. “We had a busy night, so she is catching up on her sleep.”

“Busy how?” Chris demanded.

“Let me in and we'll talk about it,” Sean said in a deceptively mild tone.

Chris narrowed his eyes, but stepped back and allowed his brother-in-law to enter his house. “Considering what has happened over the last few years, I think the matriarch of the O'Donnell family capable of doing just about anything.” 

Sean conceded his point with a terse nod. “Good to see you finally wised up, Chris.” He settled down on the couch in the living room. His eyes taking in the expensive decorations with an appreciative eye. “However, Shanahan would like you to seriously consider allowing her to foster Allison for a year or so. Let her get to know her mother's side of the family a bit better. Let her learn a bit about the family traditions.”

“Maybe after she graduates,” Chris replied. “Then she can make her own decisions.” 

“She would also appreciate it if you didn't speak about her like she wasn't there,” Allison said tightly. “As for your suggestion. I'm very happy here in, but I will seriously consider her invitation. I would like to learn how another family matriarch runs things.”

“That's all I ask,” Sean replied with a thin smile before turning back to Chris. “As for how busy we've been. Let's see, we weren't in town more than ten minutes when we came across a feral dog. We decided to put it out of its misery. Meghan wanted to test out some new bullets, they seem to be very effective against them.” He chuckled. “I'm looking forward to seeing how well they work on the rest of the animals around here.”

“Feral dog,” Chris said dryly. “Right, anything else?” 

“Well, you'll just have to find out now won't you,” Sean shrugged. 

“Sean, listen to me,” Chris said. “You need to stop this before innocent people get hurt.”

“There are no innocents in a wolf pack,” Sean said, coming to his feet and pushing into Chris' personal space. “Derek Hale killed my sister. Anyone that knowingly associates with him is fair game.”

“I know you think you know what happened, but Gerard didn't tell you the entire story,” Chris replied, not backing down. “You're working with bad intelligence.”

“It doesn't matter,” Sean replied with a shrug. “The last of the Hales will be dead along with that so-called True Alpha by the time we leave this town, that is all that matters to me.” 

“Get out,” Allison said through her teeth.

“Excuse me,” Sean turned slowly to face her. “What did you say?”

“I said, get out of our house,” she repeated. 

“Allison,” Chris said softly.

“Quiet, Dad,” Allison growled. “Uncle Sean, I don't know how our family became hunters and personally I don't really give a shit. What I do know is that those traditions are what killed half of this family, not the Hales. You want to talk about what really happened, then you are more than welcome to sit your ass down and listen to the truth.” She pointed at the couch. “But if all you're going to do is glory in the idea of killing people who have done nothing to deserve it, then I don't want you in my house or my town.” 

“You don't get to dictate anything to me, little girl,” Sean said menacingly.

“I am the matriarch of the Argent family,” Allison said. 

Sean slapped Allison so hard her neck snapped back. She stumbled and fell on the floor, holding the side of her face in shock. Chris surged forward only to find himself with a gun pointed at his head. 

“Pathetic,” Sean sneered. “I don't know what my sister saw in you, but you're a disgrace and your daughter isn't any better.” 

“Put the gun down, Sean,” Chris said, not daring to blink.

“I came here as a courtesy, Chris,” he said. “I see you with anyone from that pack of mongrels and I'll make sure you are dead right alongside them.” He turned to Allison. “As for you, I heard about how you were fornicating with one of those beasts like a bitch in heat. You're lucky he didn't give you a litter of puppies.” Allison flushed in anger and embarrassment at his crude words. “Matriarch? What a joke. Maybe if you sweated and bled for the next ten years on the hunt you might earn that title. You need to learn your place.”

He walked to the front door, keeping his gun trained on Chris. “I'd think long and hard about where your loyalties are. Your daughter's future may well depend on the choices you make in the next few days.” He exited the house, leaving the door open behind him. 

Chris ran to his daughter and pulled her into his arms. “Are you alright?” 

Allison hugged him back for a moment before pulling away. “Is that really what they think of me, Dad? Because of Scott?” 

“Allison...” Chris began but stopped looking away. 

“Did Mom- Did Mom think I was some sexual deviant?” Allison went pale as snow. “Is that why she tried to kill him? Because they all think that way? Is that the reason why she killed herself?” 

“I honestly don't know,” he replied softly. “I was brought up believing that a human sleeping with a werewolf was just not done. Anyone that was involved in a relationship like that was no better than the beast they laiding with.”

“Do you still-”

“No! God, honey, of course not,” Chris said vehemently. “Scott has his faults, but he tries to be a good person. You believe me, right?” 

“Yeah,” Allison said softly. “What are we going to do about the O'Donnells?”

“We're going to stop them before they hurt anyone else,” Chris said. “They're in violation of the code, blood feud declarations be damned.”

**

Stiles has somehow managed to get several hours of sleep, despite having Pete Hale under his roof. His father had come home in the wee hours of the morning with Derek and Cora in tow but he had been encouraged to go back to sleep as John had stated that he needed sleep before he could deal with whatever life-altering revelation they were going to lay at his feet. 

Stiles was relieved when he woke the hours later to find his ears were no longer ringing. He watched his father's face carefully as he and the remaining Hales took the time to explain the events of the last two years as well as the true motivations behind the fire that killed nearly their entire family. It might have been funny if it wasn't obvious that John Stilinski was hurt by the realization of just how often he had been lied to. 

“So let me see if I've got this straight,” John said slowly as he sipped a cup of coffee. “Werewolves are real, the three of you were born with it, but Scott, Issac, and Jackson were bitten. And Lydia is a living banshee and her scream is what destroyed Hall B?”

Stiles nodded vigorously. 

“And Chris Argent and his daughter, along with dozens if not hundreds of others live to hunt down people like you because you aren't considered human.” He looked at Stiles. “You're still normal, right?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles shifted from foot to foot. “Though I'm pretty sure I did something sort of like magic last year, but that doesn't count as not human.”

“Magic, right,” John muttered. “Why not?” 

“I know this is all very hard to believe,” Derek said. “But it is the truth.”

“Actually I'm kind of relieved,” John said. “I knew something was going on, but no one would talk me. I honestly was starting to think it was aliens or government conspiracies. I'll take monsters and magic over that any day.” 

“Now that we've had our big reveal for Sheriff Stilinski,” Peter began. “Perhaps we should talk about what really happened at Derek's apartment.” 

“What did happen?” John asked, looking like he wanted to figure out a way to arrest the man. There was a long distance between justifiable homicide and the revenge murders that Peter had committed. Unfortunately, they couldn't even pin Laura Hale's murder on him as her death was ruled an animal attack. 

“Hunters,” Stiles said with a frustrated flail of arms. “What else could it be?” 

“If that letter you found is any indication,” Peter said. “I believe we have a vendetta on our hands. Most likely connected to one of the hunters that have died. Probably one of the old blood hunting families. There aren't that many, but I think it can be narrowed down quite quickly.”

“So who do you think it is?” Derek asked him impatiently.

“We have three possibilities that have the means and motive,” Peter said. “One is the European branch of the Argent family, they might come after us for what happened to Gerard. The Calavera family, though their motives would be more about bragging rights than anything else. And then there is the O'Donnell family, they would certainly have motive and means.”

“O'Donnell?” John said. “Why is that name familiar?” 

“Because it is Victoria Argent's maiden name,” Peter replied. “You probably saw it when dealing with her suicide.”

John scrubbed at his face. “This is nuts.” 

“Welcome to my world,” Stiles said. “Sorry.” 

John stepped up to his son and pulled him into a hug. “I get it, I do, but no more lies.”

Stiles hugged him back as hard as he could. “I swear, on my comic book collection, I will keep you in the loop.”

“I mean it,” John said sternly as he pulled away. He looked at the werewolves. “That goes for all of you. I want to know what is going on, no matter how crazy. Even if it is just so I can divert attention from it, whatever it is. Also, I do not want to look like an idiot in front of Rafael McCall, again, because of this crap.”

“Understood,” Derek agreed. Cora nodded in agreement, while Peter looked speculatively impressed. 

“I see where Stiles gets it from,” he said with a wistful smile. “You are a brave man, John Stilinski. I wish I'd bitten him that night instead. He would have made a magnificent beta.”

“Can you at least try to not give my father any more incentive to shoot you, Creeper-wolf,” Stiles said with a resigned sigh.

**

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. Derek spent a lot of time, with John's permission, using the house phone to call his insurance company about the damage to the building. His cellphone had been destroyed in the explosion along with most of their worldly possessions. He would have to meet them at the property the next day, but John assured him that the fire inspector had already ruled out arson for profit as they found the threatening letter on Derek's car.

They played a frustrating game of phone tag with the rest of the pack, trying to set up a meeting somewhere that they thought would be safe. Scott vetoed his own house as they were having work done on the furnace and didn't actually know when the repair guy was going to show. Stile offered his house, but the twins refused to go there for reasons that they wouldn't share. Allison said that it couldn't be at her house, but that she would go wherever they decided to hold it. They tentatively agreed to meet at Lydia's house, as she had been released from the hospital, with a warning that she should not be left alone. 

The investigators released Stiles' Jeep from the town's impound yard, so his father drove him to the station when he went in for his shift. Stiles decided since the Hales were currently staying at his place he needed to get more food in the house, so he made a shopping list and headed to the store. He called the house to see if anyone wanted anything and it turned out that Peter had a list of his own, along with an offer to cook for everyone as a 'thank you' for putting them up for a few days. It took him over an hour to find all the things he needed, but Stiles was happy when he was done. 

It turned out that Peter was a trained chef and had been considering opening his own restaurant before the fire. The whole house smelled fantastic by the time John had arrived home. The five of them ate together, slowly moving from stilted awkward conversations, to animatedly talking about several topics from sports to climate change. 

“Were you able to save anything from the explosion?” John asked as they were finishing dinner.

“We have copies of all our important papers and anything that is considered irreplaceable is in storage,” Peter said. “We lost far too much in the fire.” Everyone was quiet for a long moment, all too aware of what had been lost that night. “Which reminds me, Stiles,” he continued. “I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive. 

“What's on it,” John asked warily.

“My gay porn collection,” Peter deadpanned.

“What?!” John exclaimed.

“Peter!” Derek covered his face in embarrassment.

“Uncle Peter!” Cora shouted, mortified.

“Oh my God,” Stiles sighed. “He's joking.” He glared at Peter. “You are joking, right?”

“Yes,” Peter sighed. “I'm joking. It is the Hale bestiary. As well as the history, as we know it, of our conflicts with the old blood hunter families. I believe you would be the best person to have a copy.” He turned to Derek. “You are far from the first to be seduced for the explicit purpose of trying to destroy us and far from the youngest they have ever tried to manipulate.” Derek met his eyes and nodded. “There is also a digital copy of several books on what Alan Deaton so ambiguously calls a Spark. I think you will find it enlightening.”

Stiles clutched the drive tightly in his hand. It was all he could do to stay still and finish dinner. He wanted to run upstairs and download everything onto his computer that instant.

“Stiles.” Peter drew his attention back. “You need to be careful.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“When werewolves and other non-humans do rituals in order to find information, such as you participated in, they do not have to worry about secondary consequences, because they are already part of the flow of supernatural energies,” Peter leaned back in his chair. “You had a near-death experience, crossed over to the other side in order to find your father. That sort of act leaves a mark that runs deeper than just a case of pneumonia.”

“What are you saying?” John asked.

“Stiles needs to study and learn what it means to do what he did,” Peter said. “The little spark of power you had, that allowed you to use the mountain ash powder, is growing and unless you learn to shield yourself, it will bring you a great deal of unwanted attention.”

“Guess I'm going to be visiting Deaton,” Stiles sighed.

“Deaton will not help you,” Peter warned. “Not the way he should, because he enjoys his monopoly on mystical knowledge. He lives in denial of the cycle of benign neglect he had created. His insistence that the Nemeton will be fine if left alone is just part of it. One day it is going to get him killed.” 

“That fucking tree,” Stiles muttered. “I told Scott we needed to do something about it.”

“That is easier said than done,” Peter admitted. “I have been contacting everyone that has any knowledge of these things. From what I have been told, because of what Gerard Argent did, the trunk must be excised from the ground. The surrounding soil must be dug up and replaced as the poison that he used has more than likely bled into the ground.”

“That is going to be a lot of work,” Stiles said. “That stump is huge.” 

“Yes, but once the ground is clean, a new tree can be planted,” Peter replied. “And that should cleanse the area of the pervasive negative energy that has infected this town.”

“Sounds like a Hellmouth,” John said. Everyone stared at him. “What? I watched Buffy. It was a good show.”

“It's like I don't even know you,” Stiles said, a hand over his heart. John just rolled his eyes.

**

Scott and Aidan were walking down one of the many narrow paths in the preserve, looking for signs of intruders. Ethan had reported seeing tracks of military style boots and a blood trail on the far side of the woods. They were close to the old Hale property, but Scott didn't want to go there, Even though he was the alpha, going to the burned-out shell, felt like an intrusion. So many people had died there, it was like he could sense their ghosts watching and judging him. 

“Did you or Ethan ever Bite anyone?” Scott asked Aiden, suddenly.

“Why would I have?” the former alpha asked. 

“Well, you were an alpha, isn't part of what you do?” Scott said. “I mean, sure you were part of the alpha pack but...” 

“Our natural instincts were subverted by Deucalion's control.” Aiden grimaced. “He believed that the most powerful Alphas didn't need betas.” 

“Did you ever find someone you wanted to Bite?” Scott persisted.

“Well, there were a few people here and there that I would have liked to keep with us as we traveled,” Aiden shrugged. “But there were very strict rules about personal attachments.”

“As in they weren't allowed,” Scott finished. “I keep thinking that I need to expand the pack.” 

“Why?” he asked. “It isn't like we have a small group, seven wolves plus Lydia, and Stiles. That is a pretty sizable pack.”

“I feel like something is missing though,” Scott admitted. 

“Well instincts are there for a reason,” Aiden replied with a shrug. “You want to Bite someone, find a person that would be a good fit and do it. Nothing says you can't.”

“I can't just randomly choose someone to become a werewolf,” Scott said. “Derek was doing that and look at what happened. Jackson is in England and Boyd and Erika are dead. He should never have given them the Bite. He's the reason they're gone.”

Aiden paled but said nothing. 

“I become an Alpha and suddenly Allison wants nothing to do with me,” Scott huffed. “It makes no sense.”

“Is this about the pack, or is this about Allison?” Aiden asked. “Because I'm pretty sure that Chris Argent would skin you alive if you gave his daughter the Bite, even if she volunteered.” 

“You could always see if Danny wants the Bite,” Aiden suggested. “I mean him and Ethan are all over each other. I'm pretty sure Ethan would Bite him right now if he still could.” 

“That's an idea,” Scott said. “Maybe we should invite him to the next Pack meeting.” He looked at his watch. “We should head back home. My mom will kill me if I stay out past one on a school night.”

“Whatever you want, Scott,” Aiden replied. “Whatever you want.” 

** 

The next day was normal, nothing horrible happened. The classes held in Hall B were moved to either the gymnasium or to the library. The last of the year-end final exams were taken and as they finished students were allowed to leave, some had to wait for the buses, but a lot of students simply drove home or walked. It was a nice day, too nice to be stuck cooped up in a stuffy classroom. 

Stiles happily finished his final test, he was one of the last to finish because he had become focused on the essay questions and ended up writing way more than was needed. He waved goodbye to his teachers and headed out to the nearly deserted student parking where his beloved Jeep sat waiting for him. He threw his bag into the back, climbed in the driver's seat and froze as he felt and heard something click below him. 

He knew every groan and creak that his Jeep made. It did not ever make that sound. He tired to rationalize what he's heard. Maybe a spring in his seat had given way, but the problem was that he could feel something solid under the padding. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself before he reached out and pulled his rear-view mirror off of its mounting bracket. He was never so grateful for having long arms, since he didn't have to move at all to reach it. He leaned forward, ever so slightly and tried to use the mirror to see what he was sitting on. 

It took everything he had not to move as the reflection of something squarish with a little blinking light came into view. He swallowed hard and reached for his cellphone but stopped. What if the thing underneath him could be triggered by a cellphone signal? What if it was on a timer? If he just sat there would he be safe? He gripped the steering wheel and tried to stay calm. He could tell by his own ragged breathing that he was starting to panic. He put his head between his arms and tried not to shake apart.

“Stiles?” A voice nearby said what felt like days later. “Stiles, what's wrong?” 

“Derek?” Stiles asked lifting his head. He had never been so happy to see that look of annoyance in his life.

“Why are you just sitting here?” Derek said. “Did your truck break down?”

“There is a bomb under my seat,” Stiles said quietly. 

“What?!” Derek's voice nearly cracked. He ducked low and peered under the seat, his eyes widened at what he saw. “We have to get you out of there.”

“I can't move. I'm afraid I'll set it off,” he replied. 

“Why didn't you call someone?”

“What if it triggers from a cell phone signal?” Stiles said, breathing heavily. “I didn't dare do anything, I could think of a thousand ways that this thing could go off and all of them involve some way of getting help.”

“Okay, okay, give me your phone,” Derek said. “Since I still don't have a cell, I'll call for help.”

“Don't do it near me,” Stiles said, eyes wide with panic. “Wait, don't leave!” he added when it Derek started to back away.

“I'm not going far, just to the other side of the parking lot,” Derek promised. “You'll still be able to see me.”

“Okay,” he replied. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Derek said tightly. “I'll be right back.” 

Minutes later John was at the head of the emergency crew that arrived on the scene. He walked up to the Jeep, his expression was one of deep concern. 

“Where is it?” he asked all business. 

“It's under the seat,” Derek said. “It looks like a pressure plate and some kind of cylinder.”

John ducked under Stiles' legs and froze for a long moment as he took in the device. “How are you holding up, son?” he asked as he straightened. 

“I'd feel a lot less like throwing up if you would move back a couple of miles,” Stiles gritted out. “I don't want you to see this when I blow up.” 

“You're not going to blow up,” Derek denied. 

“We'll get you out of this,” John promised. 

“Now who's lying,” Stiles said with a dry chuckle. “We all know how this is going to end. This is probably the same people that killed Lydia's mom. I figured it out while I was sitting here. They're going after the all the people that aren't werewolves first. Trying to weaken the pack through emotional upheaval.”

“You're going to be really pissed when we prove you wrong,” John said. “We're going to get you out of there.”

“No, don't you get it,” Stiles said, panic and worry crossing his face. “They're targeting humans. Dad, you have to check on Melissa. Make sure she is alright.” 

“You just worry about yourself,” John said. 

“Please, Dad,” Stiles said plaintively. 

“Okay, okay,” John said and backed away. “Derek, keep him calm.” 

Several minutes past and Stiles tried to breathe. Derek reached out a hand and Stiles grabbed it like a lifeline. “Thank you, for staying with me,” he said.

“You stayed with me when I was helpless,” Derek said. “How could I do anything less for you.”

“Stop being so nice, I won't be able to call you Sourwolf,” he joked.

Derek scowled at him. “You're impossible.”

“I've called the county bomb squad,” John said. “They'll be here soon.” 

“How soon?” Derek asked.

“Twenty minutes,” John admitted. 

“Did you check on Melissa?” Stiles asked. 

“I called the house, but no one answered,” John said, “I had Dispatch send a car over.”

“Send someone to find Danny,” Stiles said suddenly. “He's dating Ethan.” 

“Danny Mahealani?” John said. “Okay, we'll look for him. Anyone else we should worry about?” 

“No, no,” Stiles said. “I think that's it.” He huffed. “There is you of course, but you're here, within the blast radius of an unknown explosive device. If it goes off, you'll die with me.”

“I'm not going to die,” John told him. “And neither are you.”

Several minutes later the bomb squad arrived, five minutes ahead of their estimated time. Everyone working within ten feet of the Jeep was given a flak jacket and a helmet, including Derek. The bomb squad captain realized quickly that Derek was the only thing keeping Stiles from having a full-blown panic attack, so they let him stay. They removed the Jeep's steering wheel, hardtop roof, and doors in order to have better access. 

“The bomb is a fragmentation type,” the explosives expert, Sgt. Brooks said. “It is designed to explode up and out with shrapnel causing the most damage.”

“Great, so it'll blow my ass off,” Stiles said sarcastically.

The officer ignored him. “As you can see we are deploying anti-explosive and anti-ballistic covers to minimize the potential damage.” He pointed to a small pile of equipment that they had staged just inside the perimeter “Stiles is going to be wearing a vest and leg guards. Unfortunately, we can't do anything for his lower torso. When we are ready, we're going to pull Stiles out of the vehicle and cover the seat with another anti-explosive blanket in one move. Officer Charles is going to stand on the hood of the Jeep and drop the blanket from that position. Are there any questions?” 

“Who is going to pull me out?” Stiles asked. 

“I will,” Derek said.

“Sir, I can't let you do that,” Sgt. Brooks replied. “You're not a police officer.”

“Please, please,” Stiles said, desperately. “Let Derek pull me out. I trust him. I know his strength, I know he can do it faster than anyone else here.”

“I can't allow it,” Sgt Brooks said. “Procedure dictates that he shouldn't even be near you now.”

“You don't understand,” Stiles shouted. “He can do this. He can.”

“Derek,” John said suddenly. “Raise your right hand.” 

“What?” Derek stared.

“Raise your right hand and repeat after me,” John said. Waiting until Derek's hand was raised before continuing. 

“I do solemnly swear that I will support the Constitution of the United States and the Constitution of this Commonwealth, and be faithful and true to the Commonwealth of California so long as I continue to be a citizen thereof, and that I will faithfully execute, to the best of my ability, the office of Deputy Sheriff according to law.” 

Derek repeated it, word for word, his voice shaking slightly as he did so. Stiles bit his lip as it happened, grateful for his father's quick thinking. 

“You are now a deputy of Beacon Hills,” John said. “Sgt. Brooks, your ass is now covered. Let Derek do this.”

Brooks shook his head in consternation. “Alright everyone not explicitly assigned to this task, I want you back behind the vehicles. That includes you, Sheriff.” They put a pair of anti-explosive pants on Derek so that his lower half was protected and a crash mat directly behind him.

As people moved away, Stiles gripped Derek's forearms tightly. “I want you to know, I was going to ask you out to dinner on my eighteenth birthday.”

“What? Like a date?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles admitted. “Crazy, huh.”

“If we survive this,” Derek replied. “I'll take you up on that.”

“Really?” 

“When you are ready,” Sgt. Brooks called over a megaphone. “We'll give you and count down from ten. When I reach one, you pull him away.” 

“We're ready,” Derek said. “Right, Stiles?” Under the helmet, his face morphed into the beta form.

“Yes,” Stiles said, shifting his feet. 

“Ten, nine...”

“Do you trust me, Stiles?” Derek asked softly. His eyes began to glow.

“Six, five...”

“I trust you,” Stiles replied. “I'll always trust you.”

“Two, one!” 

Derek used the Stiles' vest to dig his claws in and lift him up and out of the way. Over his own head and down onto the mat in one continuous movement. He covered Stiles with his own body hoped it would be enough. They moved so fast they were almost a burr, the officer on top of the Jeep's hood barely register the movement. He dropped the blanket onto the Jeep's seat a full second after they had moved. 

The explosion lifted the Jeep off the ground a full foot. The blankets were pushed up and away absorbing most of the force. The officer on top of the Jeep fell backward off the hood and onto another crash mat waiting for just that eventuality. A fire erupted from under the Jeep as the gas tank ignited. 

Everyone scrambled away from the Jeep, Derek picked Stiles up and slung him over his shoulder as soon as he found his footing. He ran straight to where John was waiting and placed him carefully on his feet. Which was a mistake, since Stiles collapsed onto his ass a second later. 

“Are you alright?” John said. “Stiles?”

“My legs are asleep from not moving for so long,” Stiles said, breathlessly. “I think I'm okay.”

“Let's have the EMTs check you both out,” John said. 

Ten minutes later, Stiles had his right leg wrapped in a bandage where a piece of shrapnel had sliced into him. Derek was fine as was the officer that fell off the Jeep. 

“So... Deputy Hale,” Stiles teased. “I like the sound of that.” 

“If you really want the job,” John said. “I do have openings. You just have to pass the written test and the physical.”

“I never really thought about it,” Derek said. “It isn't like I need the money.”

“If this job was about the money there would be a lot fewer cops in the world,” John said. “I have a manual at the house, you're welcome to read it.”

“I'll consider it,” Derek said.

A moment later John's police radio crackled to life. “Sheriff Stilinski this is Dispatch.”

“I read you,” John said, grabbing his microphone. 

“Deputy Parrish reports two occupants of McCall residence found unconscious at the scene. Possible carbon monoxide poisoning. One teen-aged male and one adult female.” 

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. 

“EMTs report that the male is responding well to oxygen, the female remains unconscious and has been transferred to the intensive care unit.”

“Have you identified the victims?” John asked. 

“Victims identified as Melissa McCall and Issac Lahey.”

“Understood,” John said and looked from Derek to Stiles. “What are the odd that this was a malfunctioning furnace and not sabotage?” 

Derek looked back and the smoldering remains of the Jeep. “After what just happened, is there any doubt?”

John grimaced. “These people have declared war on my town.”

“I have a question,” Stiles asked. “Where the hell is Scott?”

End


	3. Drops of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack regroups and secrets are revealed.

Scott walked into the cafe just outside of the school grounds, looking for a place to sit. He'd finished his finals and was looking forward to spending the summer bonding with his pack. The calls from Derek earlier that morning had worried him a great deal. If new hunters were targeting the pack, they would have to keep their guard up. 

He sat down and a waiter came and took his order. While he waited, he thought about what Aiden had said. Did he really want to Bite someone? Bringing a human into the world of werewolves was dangerous. After all, Derek had taken on four betas all at once and it had been a disaster.

“Well Issac is okay,” Scott said to himself. He grimaced at his own thoughts. He shouldn't think so ill of the dead, after everything that had happened he was just glad that Issac had his back. 

That was more than he could say about his best friend lately. Stiles was still pushing to tell the sheriff the truth and that was something Scott firmly believed would be a huge mistake. He planned on making that very clear to everyone at the meeting tonight. 

His order came and he couldn't help the smile he gave to the waitress. It was really busy with all the students from the school coming in a few at a time. He felt a little bad having taken up a whole booth, but he figured other members of the pack would be showing up as time went on.

He was just taking a bite of his burger when a girl he'd never met before slid into the bench seat opposite him. She was pretty with bright green eyes and dark hair, she looked a little like Allison that way. But she was wearing thick-rimmed glasses and her hair was done up in a tight set of braids that were pinned in a crown around her head. She looked a little like a nerdy princess.

“I hope you don't mind me sitting here,” she said quickly. “All the other tables were full and you were just sitting here alone.”

“Um, no,” Scott stammered. “I guess it's okay.”

“Thanks!” She waved to the waitress. “I'm Meg, by the way.” She offered her hand.

“Scott,” he replied taking it. Her hand was warm with a strong grip, unlike Allison, she didn't have calluses from using weapons all the time. 

“I know who you are,” she said, wide-eyed. “You're the captain of the lacrosse team.”

“Do you go to school here?” Scott asked. “I don't remember meeting you before.”

“Of course, you wouldn't,” she adjusted her glasses. “I'm in the accelerated arts program, I play the clarinet and the bass clarinet for the marching band. Which is why you never saw me before, because the band doesn't play for you guys. I'm also part of the theater club, you know, I'm part of the stage crew.”

Scott let her words wash over him. It was so nice to talk to someone normal, who didn't know about werewolves and hunters and magic. “So what are you doing after school?” 

“Do you mean for the summer or for a career?” she asked. “Because I'll be going to UCLA for there performing arts degree. I'm so excited, but for the summer I was thinking of just taking a break, maybe have some fun for once.”

“UCLA?” Scott blinked. “You're a senior?” 

“Well Duh,” she said, with a light giggle. 

They talked and ate for over an hour about all sorts of thing. Scott really enjoyed his time with her. He felt more than saw Ethan and Danny enter the cafe and was grateful that they went and found their own table. 

Meg excused herself and Ethan came over with a grin. “Who's the girl?” 

“Her name is Meg,” Scott said. “And I don't want you scaring her off.”

“Don't worry,” Ethan winked at him and headed back to his table.

Meg came back a few minutes later with a sly grin. “Hey, I just found out my parents are going to be gone the rest of the day. You want to come over?” 

Scott blinked, not expecting her to be so forward. “Really?” 

“Why not? One last fling before I go to college,” she said, sliding her foot along his inner thigh. 

“I, well, I-” Scott stammered. He was not used to someone being so forward. 

“Unless...,” her eyes got wide. “Are you dating someone? I heard you'd broken up with, what was her name? Alice?”

“Allison,” Scott muttered. “No, no, no. We're not dating anymore.” 

“So?” Meg grinned. “Come on.” She stood and tossed two twenties dollar bills on the table.

Scott gaped at her as she left. He turned to see Ethan motioning for him to go for it. He stood and followed her out of the cafe.

**

Ethan took Danny out to a nice, secluded spot out by the lake, it was cool there with low hanging branches to hide them from prying eyes. It was nice to have the freedom to live like a normal person. It was a privilege to be able to relax and enjoy being with someone, without the ever-present fear that an emotional attachment to anyone other than his brother would be used against him. There were days that he missed the power of being an alpha, but he reveled in the simple pleasure of going to school, of having a boyfriend. 

“Who was that girl that McCall was talking to?” Ethan asked after he settled next to Danny, the sweat cooling on their bodies.

“No clue,” he said sleepily. “Never saw her before.”

“Really?” Ethan said. “I thought you knew everyone from school.”

“Beacon Hills has a student body of over six hundred,” Danny said, annoyed. “It isn't possible for me to know everyone.”

“Hmm,” Ethan replied. “Looked like they were going to have a good time.” 

“I'm not sure how I feel about your fantasizing about other people having sex. Especially after what you just did to me on this blanket,” Danny said. 

“I'm just happy he's moving on,” Ethan said, defensively. “Scott has been moping around ever since he and Allison broke up. Maybe he'll finally get over it and stop acting like an asshole about Issac wanting to ask her out.”

“Wow,” Danny chuckled. “That must be awkward, seeing as they live together.”

“And then some,” he replied.

“It's really nice here,” Danny sighed, looking up into the canopy of leaves above their heads.

“Let's go for a swim,” Ethan suggested. 

“Are you nuts?” Danny said. “That lake is fed by the snowmelt. It'll be freezing.”

“Come on,” Ethan said. “I'll keep you warm.” He stood and ran over to a short dock where people could launch small boats or go fishing. He stretched and posed for a moment, showing off his body. 

“Oh my god!” Danny yell. “Put some clothes on before someone sees you!” He pulled on his own pants and grabbed Ethan's to bring them over.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “You're such a prude.” 

“No,” Danny replied scandalized. “I'm just not an exhibitionist.”

“You ju-” He was cut off by a shot that came out of nowhere. It hit Danny in the chest and sent him stumbling backward into the lake. “Danny!” A second shot hit Ethan in the spine. His legs gave out as he tried to reach out for the body that slipped quickly beneath the surface of the water. “No!”

“What's the matter little puppy?” A man's voice said behind him. “Lose your chew toy?” 

Ethan wolfed out and tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. “What did you do to me?” 

“Just the thing to keep a bad dog down,” he said. He raised his rifle and struck Ethan across the head, knocking him unconscious.

**

Lydia was speaking with the family attorney on the phone. There were complicated legal issues concerning her mother's death and the deposition of her Will. The funeral arrangements had already been made years ago, but it was still difficult to have to deal with it. She was grateful that Aiden was stepping up to support her, he had come right over after he had finished for the day. Her father had been next to useless, wallowing in his own grief, even though her parents had been on the verge of getting divorced.

The school administration had been kind enough to allow her to take her final exams in a week. She honestly could have used the distraction, but she doubted her GPA would have thanked her. Her concentration kept wavering, thinking of things she was supposed to be doing or what her mother might have thought about how complicated dying was for those that remained behind.

“Ethan!” Aiden gasped. “Something is wrong with Ethan.” 

“I'm sorry,” Lydia said into the phone. “I need to call you back.” She turned to Aiden. “What happened?” 

“I felt pain and then nothing,” Aiden said, eyes wide. “He's not dead, I'd know that immediately. I need to find him.”

“Do you know where he was going?” Lydia asked. 

“He was taking Danny out to the lake,” Aiden said. “Something is wrong. Really wrong.”

“Come on,” Lydia said. “We're going to find him.” She grabbed the keys to her mother's SUV and headed out the door. “I'll drive, you start calling people.”

Aiden stared at his phone in frustration. “Issac and Scott aren't picking up. None of the Hales have new phones yet.” 

“Well then call Stiles,” Lydia said.

“Why the hell would I call that loser?” Aiden asked,

Lydia slammed on the breaks, causing him to slide into the dashboard because he hadn't put on his seatbelt. She glared at him as he struggled to get back into his seat. 

“What the hell?” Aiden demanded. 

“Your disrespect of my friend is offensive,” Lydia said tightly. “I might like you, but that doesn't mean I won't drop you like a bad penny if you keep up that attitude. Now call Stiles.” 

“It went to voicemail too,” Aiden said after making the call. “What the hell is going on.” 

“I don't know, but for the moment, it appears we're on our own,” Lydia replied and pressed harder on the accelerator.

**

Sean O'Donnell stepped back to admire his handy work. He had crucified the young werewolf on an X shaped cross, thick nails were expertly driven through wrists and feet. His legs and arms wrapped in leather and steel to keep him from moving. He was gagged and there was a shock collar secured to his neck. Sean had used chains to hoist his handy work off the floor and hung it on the far wall of the room. The slow trickle of blood from the creature's wounds ran into a basin underneath the display.

Sean had left the bullet in the werewolf's back to keep him from healing. He wanted to see what prolonged exposure to the runes on the bullet would do to the debilitating wound. Permanent paralysis would be a useful side benefit. The blood would be sent to a hunter he knew that had a master's in biochemistry. They were always looking for unique samples and the blood from a twin werewolf was about as unusual as it could get.

He turned to watch as his daughter made her way down the basement stairs, her tightly braided hair had come loose and fell over her shoulders in thick ropes. She had a small box labeled 'test samples' in her hand which she took directly to a small freezer and placed it inside.

“I see your hunting trip was a success,” she said, admiringly. “Nice aesthetic composition.”

“Just as successful as yours, Meghan,” he nodded to the security monitor. “And he doesn't suspect anything?” 

“Please, he was like a faithful hound following a new playmate,” she replied. “Any complications?”

“I decided to eliminate the human that the animal had chosen to fornicate with,” Sean replied. “Besides, it was just a useless queer. It isn't like he was going to contribute anything useful to society.”

“No great loss there,” she agreed. “Ignorance is no defense when you've chosen to lay down with a beast.” 

“Isn't that a bit hypocritical of you dear?” he asked. “After all, McCall is currently passed out on your own bed.”

“Seducing the enemy is not the same thing,” she replied. “Besides, we needed samples of True Alpha genetics. Blood is easy to get, but sperm is rare and needs to be studied thoroughly. Killing is all well and good, but knowledge is the key to final victory. You taught me that. ”

“So I did,” he pulled her into a hug. “I've never been so proud of you.” 

“I can't take all the credit,” she replied, pressing her body against his. “I had an excellent teacher.”

“So how was it?” he asked, stepping away to look into the monitor recording Scott's every move.

“I've certainly had better,” she sneered. “You were right, for all his alpha powers he is still just a puppy. All that stamina and not a single original thought in his head. I did manage to teach him some new tricks. You can watch the video later.” 

“Well he won't get much chance to practice as we're going to kill him,” Sean replied. 

“We're still on for the second phase?” she asked, with a careless glance at Ethan. 

“Of course,” Sean replied. “You best get back up there, the puppy seems to be waking up.”

“I'll send him on his way,” Meg replied. “We've kept him away from his pack long enough.” 

“Actually, we don't know if the bomb has gone off yet. Best to keep him distracted a little while longer.” Sean checked his watch. “Go have some fun.” 

“Oh, I wonder how he'd react to me biting him?” Meg grinned. “Maybe I'll get him to show some fang.”

“It's all in the name of science,” Sean replied. “Of course.”

“Of course,” she said. “Do you want to watch?”

“Later,” he replied. “Just be careful you don't want to end up like your aunts.”

“No,” Meghan agreed, coldly. “They were careless and let their feelings cloud their judgment.” She made her way back up the stairs

Sean watched as Meghan entered the bedroom a few minutes later. McCall was about to get up when she climbed on top of him and pushing him back into the mattress. A part of him wished that McCall was still involved with his niece Allison. It would have been interesting to watch Meghan lure the wolf astray. He turned away and sent a message to his colleague, letting him know that fresh samples would be coming his way soon.

**

The lake, when they reached it, was deserted. At first, it looked like no one had been there at all, but Aiden spotted something and ran into the tree line. “He was here,” he said holding up a motorcycle helmet. 

“Keep looking around,” Lydia said heading for the lake shore. She felt something pulling her to the water's edge. She didn't feel like screaming, it wasn't death that she felt. She could only describe it pure and living power. 

“There is blood on the dock,” Aiden yelled. “I can smell Ethan's scent in it. He was hurt.”

Lydia watched a mist begin to rise from the lake until it was so thick you couldn't see more than a few yards in front of you. Then the mist seemed to pulse like a heartbeat and condense in the very center of the lake where it glowed an eerie red.

Aiden came to stand next to her, his eyes wide with worry. The mist solidified into a humanoid form. The form grew more distinct with long arms and legs, with a long tail. Lydia took a step back, thinking of Jackson and the lizard creature he had become. The skin on the creature was a completely black and hard to distinguish in the low light of the shaded lake. The eyes glowed a bright white for an instant before settling into an odd red color. 

“What is that?” Aiden demanded. The creature looked at him and started to walk forward on the surface of the water. Aiden fell into a defensive crouch.

“Ethan told me I could break down your reactions to new things into two categories, fight or fuck,” the creature said. “I didn't believe him. I'll have to apologize.” 

“Who the hell are you?” Aiden demanded.

“Who do you think I am?” the creature reached the shore. As his feet touched the ground his hide smoothed out to human skin and lightened to a tanned bronze. Dark short curly hair formed on his head and his eyes turned a dark brown.

“Danny?!” Lydia exclaimed in shock and relief. “What happened to you?” 

Danny grimaced. “Some asshole shot me and I fell in the lake.”

“What are you?” Aiden demanded. 

“A Mo'o,” Danny replied. 

“A what?”

“Hawaiian water dragons. I come from an ancient line of shape-shifters,” Danny replied. “Unlike werewolves, we usually don't come into our power until after we've lived a full human life.”

Lydia stared at him. “So you've known all along.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I live in Beacon Hills. What, you think the supernatural craziness is some big secret?” 

“Yes!” Lydia replied in exasperation. “I sure as hell didn't know until I got dragged into it by Jackson of all people.”

“My family moved here to investigate what happened to the Nemeton,” Danny said. “When the hunters showed up I was told that under no circumstances was I to reveal that I knew anything.”

“So you started dating a werewolf?” Lydia replied.

“I have a weakness for homicidal bad boys with an inferiority complex,” Danny said with a shrug.

“We are going to have a very long talk after this is over,” Lydia warned him. “A very long talk.”

Danny raised his hands defensively. “Fine, but we need to find Ethan first,” he said. “A hunter shot him and took him away. Stole his motorcycle too from the looks of things.”

“Did you get a look at them?” Aiden asked. 

“No, I was sinking to my death at the bottom of the lake with a bullet hole in my chest,” he held up the projectile. “Luckily these things don't seem to keep working if they go right through you.” 

“We need to find Ethan,” Aiden said. 

“Good plan,” Danny replied. “Any ideas as to how?”

“We're supposed to have a pack meeting tonight,” Lydia said. 

“We can't wait that long!” Aiden replied. “Ethan could be dead by then.” 

“You don't know that,” Lydia said. 

“He'll fight them, he'll try to escape,” Aiden said, tightly. “They'll decide he is too much of a problem and they'll kill him.”

“You seem awfully certain about this,” Danny said. “Ethan never said anything but he seemed to be carrying a lot of guilt about the things you did before you came to Beacon Hills.”

“I-,” Aiden looked away. “We did what was expected. We did what we were ordered. Sometimes to force an alpha into action, we would capture a few of their betas. If they turned out to be too much trouble, we would kill them.”

“Was Erica Reyes too much trouble?” Danny asked quietly.

Aiden flinched. “She fought even when she was scared out of her mind. She fought and wouldn't cower, she tried to get away at every opportunity.” He turned and shouted at Danny. “If she had done as she was told she would have lived!”

“Way to blame the victim, Aiden,” Danny replied coldly. “She was a beautiful girl who took the Bite because it helped stop her debilitating epileptic seizures and now she is dead because of you and your so-called alpha pack.” 

“Did you kill her?” Lydia demanded. Aiden met her eyes but said nothing. “Did you kill her?!”

“No! Alright?” Aiden shouted. “Kali did, but we did nothing to stop her. Erica made her choice. Hell, it wasn't like she was the first beta we'd ever killed.” 

“So tell me,” Danny replied. “Did you revel in the kill or was it just another day at the office? Since it seems to me that life was pretty cheap for the members of your infamous little group.”

“I don't answer to you,” Aiden replied tightly.

“No,” Danny shrugged. “But you will answer for your actions one day. No amount of amnesty from Scott McCall will change that. At least your brother has the decency to feel guilt, not just upset at being called out on your actions.”

A distant sound of thunder echoed through the woods. Birds and other animals scattered in every direction. 

“What was that?” Lydia asked.

“An explosion,” Aiden said. “It came from town.” 

“Let's go,” Danny said heading toward the parking area.

“But Ethan,” Aiden protested.

“We're not going to find Ethan out here by ourselves and with no one answering their phones,” Lydia sighed. “We need to regroup.” 

“Stop at Scott's house and see if he knows what is going on,” Aiden suggested.

The short time it took them to return to town, it became clear that they missed something very important. Law enforcement vehicles were patrolling the streets in a very obvious way. The normally friendly deputies were grim-faced and watching everyone with suspicion. 

Police and firefighters were at the school as they drove past. A smoldering wreck was still being hosed down in the middle of the student parking lot. Blackened and melted to the point of being impossible to identify.

They headed down the street to the McCall residence, slowing down when they saw a patrol car sitting outside the house and crime scene tape surrounding the property. Lydia drove past and turned onto the street for the Stilinski residence. 

“What the hell happened?” Danny asked. 

“I don't know,” Lydia said. “But if Scott is injured then we need to get to Stiles, he'll know.”

 

** 

Peter looked up from the article he was reading on his laptop when he heard a noise at the back of the Stilinski house. A sly grin crossed his face as he closed the lid and stood. He listened for a moment and moved silently to intercept the intruder.

He crept out the open window of Stiles' bedroom and up the peak of the roof before jumping down onto the neighbor's yard. A quick look through the fence confirmed that there was someone trying to break into the house through a basement window. He vaulted the fence and walked over to the man in all black attempting to pry the window free. 

“Did you know you are trying to break into a house owned by the local sheriff?” he asked. The man whirled around bringing the crowbar he had in his hand up to bare. They both paused and took each other in. “Sean. My, my, how tall you've grown. I thought I recognized your scent. I must say I'm rather disappointed, you don't normally go for the hands-off methods of killing.”

“Peter,” Sean narrowed his eyes. “You're supposed to be dead.”

“I was,” he tilted his head to the side. “I got better.” 

“You should have stayed dead,” Sean said and attacked swinging the crowbar at the same time he reached for his gun. Peter moved into Sean's personal space, ducking under the improvised weapon, and grabbed for the gun from his hand, shoving the silver-haired hunter into the wall of the house.

“I've missed you, too,” Peter replied with a toothy grin before stepping back. “Your fighting style is still predictable as ever.” He unloaded the gun and separated into its main component parts in quick succession, dropping the pieces on the ground. “Are you really going to go through with this Sean? You were a very kind young man when we first met.”

“I was a fool,” Sean replied. “I thought your kind could be reasoned with.” 

“My kind is perfectly reasonable, so long as we are left in peace,” Peter replied. “It is the hunter families, like yours, that are knee-deep in the blood of innocents.”

“Lies,” Sean replied. “All you ever say are lies and half-truths.”

“I have no reason to lie,” Peter said. “I would have gladly been yours if you hadn't betrayed me to your mother.”

“You were trying to turn me into an abomination,” Sean spat.

“Yes, please, tell me again how I was the one that made the first move,” Peter rolled his eyes. “I corrupted you and made you want bad things. You are three years older than me, Sean. You knew exactly what you wanted at the time.”

“I'm going to kill you and all those like you,” Sean spat. He pulled out a knife from his belt and lunged.

“I see Shanahan's brainwashing is still just as potent as ever,” Peter replied, easily sidestepping the attack. “You had such promise when we were young. Now you haven't got a single thought in your head that didn't originate from her.” He swiped a clawed hand across his opponent's chest and kicked him into the grassy backyard. He watched dispassionately as Sean staggered to his feet, licking a drop of blood off of one claw. “Now tell me, which of the twin wolves do you have in your clutches? I can smell him all over you.”

Sean backed away, his hand clutching his chest. “What does it matter? He's just as dead as the rest of you.”

“Perhaps, but I prefer to think that where there is life, there is hope.” Peter's eyes flared purple and he morphed into his beta form. “Care to go another round?”

Sean turned and ran, jumping over the back fence and into the woods behind the property. Peter watched him go, allowing himself to shift back to his human form. “We'll meet again soon, Sean.”

**

“Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?” John asked for the hundredth time. Stiles had given his official police statement and was hanging out in his father's office ever since. A part of him was reluctant to face the reality that he had nearly died by an act of terrorism or that his Jeep was a melted chunk of scorched scrap metal.

Stiles sighed and relaxed against the old leather couch. “Yes, I'm sure,” he replied. “I'm fine, I had my tetanus booster last year, the wound was clean and if it looks like it is going to get infected, I promise I will go to the ER immediately.”

John shook his head. “Fine, but if your foot falls off don't come crying to me.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” Stiles replied, checking his watch. “I'm going to need a ride back home. I have to get ready for the pack meeting.” 

“That starts at eight?” John asked. 

“Yes, don't forget,” Stiles replied. “Because I really want to get video of Scott's face when he finds out you know.”

John grimaced at his tone. “Are you and Scott okay?”

Stiles looked at his hands and ran his thumbs over the tips of his fingers. “Not really.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Maybe after this mess is dealt with,” Stiles replied. “We're still friends, but I think we're just... drifting apart.”

“I hate to say this, but everyone changes,” John said. “I hope you two can work out your differences.”

“So do I,” Stiles replied. He stood and stretched carefully. “I'm gonna find Carmichael, see if she can give me a ride.” He turned to leave and nearly ran into someone wearing a cheap suit. He looked up at the guy and nearly punched him in reflex. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you doing here, Agent McCall?” 

“Good to see you too, Stiles,” Rafael McCall said. “And I'm here to interview the victims of the car bombing.”

“One, it was a bomb planted in a car, a car bomb is a WMD,” Stiles said. “Which you would know if you actually paid attention is Special Agent class, and two, you can read the official statement, because I have nothing to say to you.”

“Still think you're funny, I see,” Rafael said, the menace in his voice clear. 

Stiles was about to reply but his father spoke. “Stiles go home.”

“But Dad,” Stiles motioned at Rafael.

“I know,” John replied “I've got this. Go home and get some rest.”

“Okay,” Stiles agreed, shoulders slumping, as he left he turned and mouthed behind Rafael's back. “Kick his ass.”

**

Rafael closed the door to the office and leaned against it. “That kid is a troublemaker. I bet the only reason he isn't in juvenile detention is because of you.”

“Why are you here?” John asked, not rising to the bait.

“Like I said, I'm here to interview the victims.”

“You can't be a part of this investigation,” John said, standing. “Call your superior and request a replacement.”

“You don't tell me what I can and can't do, Stilinski,” Rafael replied, smugly.

“In this case I do,” John said. “Whether you know it or not, you are personally involved. You can't be a part of an investigation that includes your own family.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Rafael demanded. “I came here to investigate the explosions at the school since your people couldn't find a suspect.”

“Your family is involved in this, McCall,” John barked at him. “No matter how far removed you may have placed yourself from them, they are still your family. You can not be part of this investigation.”

“Bullshit,” Rafael replied. “Just because my son goes to that school-”

“Scott was in the room in B Hall when the event that broke all the glass happened,” John said, cutting him off. “Stiles was nearly killed by a bomb that was planted under the seat of his car and Lydia Martin's mother is dead because Lydia's car was sabotaged. Then there is the fire-bombing of Derek Hale's apartment. The fact is that all the victims know one another hasn't slipped past anyone here.”

Rafael's eyes widened at the list of events that had happened. “And what are you doing about it?”

“Aside from investigating each case with a police force working at half strength?” John asked. “I've got the county bomb squad and the fire marshal's office helping with the bomb in Stiles' Jeep, the Hale's apartment explosion, and the sabotaged furnace. I've got the NTSB wanting to look at the Martin case. The last thing I need is you getting in my way because you still think you have something to prove.”

“What sabotaged furnace?” Rafael asked. 

“The furnace in your ex-wife's house was acting up, so she called a repair service,” John said. “Instead of fixing the problem, whoever came to do the repair, disabled the detectors and sabotaged the furnace so that it pumped CO2 into the house. Melissa is currently in a coma, not that you care.” 

“You better watch your mouth, John,” Rafael sneered. “Who knows what the mayor would say if she knew about your little drinking problem.” 

“You threatened me with that the last time you bothered to show up,” John said evenly. “But you really should see if your own house is in order before you start casting aspersions.”

“I'm not-”

“Your son is missing,” John said sharply. “Sure it has only been a few hours, but he isn't answering his phone and no one knows where he is. It could be connected to the events at his house, but until we do he has to be listed as a person of interest in every event that has happened in the last forty-eight hours because he has personal connections to each one of them.”

“Scott would never-”

“Shut up and listen to me for once in your life,” John said. “You can not be a part of this unless you are acting as Scott's legal guardian, as he is legally still a minor and his mother is currently incapacitated. If you taint this investigation and the criminals go free because you can't separate the lies you tell yourself from the facts in evidence then I will see that you lose your job.” 

Rafael stared at him as though he had never seen the sheriff before. 

“Do you understand what I'm telling you?” John demanded. 

“I- yes,” he replied.

John's interoffice phone rang and he hit the speaker. “Yes, Nancy?” 

“Sir, we have a reported sighting of Scott McCall on his motorbike, driving East on JFK Boulevard. It appears he is heading for home.” 

“Thank you, tell all officers to keep him in sight but do not approach,” John replied. “Let the officer on site know he is coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

He grabbed his sidearm and his keys. He turned to Rafael and said, “Are you coming?” 

“What?” Rafael said startled. 

“We need to question your son,” John said. “I don't have a choice. So you need to be there as his legal guardian.”

“Yeah, okay,” he replied. “I'm coming.”

**

Scott drove his motorbike down the familiar streets of his town, his body singing with satisfaction. He'd never had an encounter like the one he'd just had with Meg. He couldn't call it an empty encounter, but he couldn't call it love. It had been a hot and dirty kind of sex, the kind you read about online. He'd only had what he wanted to think of pure, sweet lovemaking. That had been fucking and it had been glorious. He wondered if Meg would be interested in getting together again. 

He had been a little taken aback by how long he had been with her. Six hours since he had met the woman and he didn't think he would ever think of sex the same way again. He checked his watch again. He had just enough time to take another shower and change his clothes before the Pack meeting. 

He nearly lost control of his bike when he approached his house and saw a patrol car in front of it with police crime scene tape around the property. He coasted to a stop in front of his house, taking off his helmet as the deputy walked toward him. 

“Scott McCall?” Deputy Holland asked.

“Yes, I'm Scott McCall,” he said. “What is going on? What happened.”

“I'm sorry but I have to ask you to wait here for the sheriff,” he said. “He'll explain as soon as he gets here.” 

All the joy he'd been feeling sank down into his feet. It was that moment when he realized he had turned off his phone when he went off with Meg and hadn't turned it back on yet. He pulled it out of his pocket and a soon as it booted, he started getting alerts about missed calls and texts from not only the pack but also the sheriff's office.

He scrolled through the texts and saw that the pack meeting was being moved to Stiles' house. Then he read that Issac had been released from the hospital, but that he was staying to keep watch over Melissa.  
He had six calls from Aiden and Lydia that all ended before leaving a message. By the time he had finished going through all the missed calls, the Sheriff's patrol car had pulled up next to him. 

He looked up and stared as his own father climbed out of a car that had parked behind Sheriff Stilinski's car. “Dad? Sheriff? What's going on?” 

“It has been a busy day, Scott,” John began. “The furnace in your house was not properly repaired and the house filled with carbon monoxide. Both Issac and your mother were taken to the hospital, Issac is alright, but your mother is currently in a coma.”

“What?” Scott said horrified. “I have to go. I have to see my mom.”

“Scott, calm down,” Rafael said, 

“I have a few questions for you, Scott,” John replied. “I need you to be as truthful as you can.”

“Can't it wait?” Scott replied. 

“No, it can't,” John snapped. “I need to know where you've been the last six hours since you left school.” 

“Why?” Scott asked. 

“Answer the question, Scott,” Rafael said. “This is important.” 

“I was with someone,” Scott said. 

“With whom?” John demanded.

“Her name is Meg,” Scott squirmed. “We spent the afternoon together.” 

“Doing what?” John pushed. 

“Jeez,” Scott threw up his hands. “We were together, okay. Do I have to spell it out.”

“What was her last name?” John asked.

Scott's eyes went wide. “Um, I don't know.”

“So you were having a sexual encounter with a classmate that you never met before,” John replied. “Where did this encounter occur?” 

“At her house,” Scott replied. 

“Address?” John asked through gritted teeth. 

“What the hell do you need to know that for?” Scott demanded, embarrassed and angry.

“Scott, the sheriff needs to corroborate your story,” Rafael said impatiently. 

“Fine!” Scott rattled off the address. “What is going on?” 

“There have been several incidences over the last few days,” John said. “Now, understand that I find it highly unlikely that you had anything to do with them, but you are connected to each one of them due to your relationships with the people directly involved.”

“The only things I was aware of was what happened in English class,” Scott said. “I thought it was a sonic boom from a low flying jet. Then we found out that Lydia's mother was dead. Then I saw with some friends when we saw smoke coming from the warehouse district. That was when I knew about the fire at Derek Hale's place.”

John stared at him, disbelief written all over his face. “Scott, I'm going to let you go for now, but we are going to have to verify your story about where you were. Now, I know I don't have to worry, but I'm officially requesting that you do not leave town while these incidences are investigated.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Scott said tightly

“Good to know,” John replied. “I understand that you and your friends are having a little meetup tonight.” 

“A meetup?” Rafael asked.

“Just boring stuff,” Scott said. “Playing video games and watching movies.”

“You don't mind if I tag along do you?” he asked. 

“Why would you want to?” Scott demanded. “You never gave a damn about what I did before.”

John gave Rafael a speculative look. “Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to let him go with you. Meet your friends.” 

“I don't want him anywhere near my friends,” Scott replied, inside he was panicking. They couldn't have a proper meeting if his father was there. 

“Well too bad, since you'll be having the meeting at my house, you'll just have to deal with it,” John replied. “Stiles and I had a really long talk. I found it... enlightening.” 

Scott stared at him trying to keep his expression neutral, his mind racing. Had Stiles told his father the truth? After the two of them had fought back and forth for months. First Stiles adamant that they not tell his father for his own protection and then just as vehemently arguing that his continued ignorance was not only going to get him killed but would eventually cost him his job. 

“I should get going,” Scott said. “I want to see my mom before visiting hours are over.” 

“The house should be cleared by forensics by tomorrow,” John said. “Normally I'd offer for you to stay with us, between the Hales and Issac we're pretty tight. You're more than welcome to find some floor space to crash in but I honestly think all the available furniture is taken.” 

“You can stay in my hotel room,” Rafael offered, looking guilty. “I can move to a room with two beds.”

“Don't strain yourself, Dad,” Scott bit out. He hopped onto his bike, put his helmet back on and rode away. 

“Scott!” his father shouted after him, but he ignored it.

This wasn't supposed to happen, he was the alpha now. Things were supposed to calm down with a stable pack and an emissary working together to make things better. Deaton had been clear about that, at least he said things should have calmed down. He would visit the druid/veterinarian after he saw his mother.

**

Scott entered the intensive care wing of the hospital with a visitor's pass around his neck. He found his mother's room easily enough, but it was hard to make himself step inside. He could easily see how pale and thin she looked hooked up to all the tube and wires. He relaxed almost immediately when he saw Issac slumped in a chair next to his mother's bedside. 

“Hey, Issac,” he called softly.

The beta straightened and glared at him. “Scott, where the hell have you been?” 

“Never mind about where I was, how is my mom?” Scott replied, not wanting to explain himself to his beta.

“She hasn't woken up yet,” Issac said, looking devastated. “The doctors are worried that she might not wake up at all.” 

Scott felt his heart drop into his feet. “What happened?” 

“I was playing on the PS3 and I remember being really tired,” Issac said with a shake of his head. “I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew I was in an ambulance with an oxygen mask over my face.”

“You didn't notice the house was filling up with CO2?” Scott demanded. 

“No wonder you're failing Chemistry,” Issac muttered. “CO2 is colorless and odorless, even to people like us. It wasn't like there was anything to point to and say 'I'm breathing in poison'.” 

“But we had a detector put in only a few years ago,” Scott said.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure it didn't go off,” Issac replied. 

“Scott McCall?” A voice called behind them. 

Scott turned and recognized Dr. Ingram, one of the many doctors that he had met from his years of severe asthma attacks. “Doctor,” he greeted, shaking his hand. “How is she?”

“I'm not going to lie to you, son,” he said. “Your mother has a long recovery ahead of her, assuming she wakes up.”

“She is not going to die,” Scott whispered. 

“I know it has only been a few hours, but recovery is often a matter of degrees,” Dr. Ingram said. “Your mother and Issac were exposed at the same time. Issac is fully recovered but your mother, as you can see, is still unresponsive. It is possible that the proximity to the ventilation system was a factor, but it is still a fact that Melissa is showing no signs of improvement. The longer she remains in a coma, the lower her chances of a full recovery become.” 

“Isn't there anything more you can do?” Scott asked.

“We have her scheduled for a CAT scan later this afternoon and an MRI as soon as there is an open time slot, to see how much damage was done,” the doctor replied. “If there is significant damage there isn't anything that we can do. As much as we can do for the body, the brain is an organ that is still a fragile mystery.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Scott said quietly. “I know you'll do everything you can.” 

The doctor checked Melissa's vitals and wrote things on her chart before leaving again. Scott watched with a low simmering rage that began to built in his chest. He didn't even realize he had started moving until he found himself running up the stairs of the hospital that lead to the roof. He could hear Issac only a few steps behind him but he didn't care. The rage in his chest felt like it was going to make his heart shoot straight out his rib cage. He hit the door and it swung open with a bang. 

“Scott!” Issac called. “You need to get a hold of yourself. You're completely shifted in the middle of the day.”

“They went after my mother!” Scott shouted. “They tried to kill her!”

“I know!” Issac shouted back. 

“I want whoever did this found,” he said, his eyes glowing red. “I want them to pay for this.”

“So do I,” Issac shot back. “But you can't lose control. That is what they want! Don't you see? They're targeting the humans first.” 

“But they went after the Hales,” Scott argued. 

“Sure because they are an obvious target. Look at the pattern. Your mother, Lydia, and now Stiles,” Issac said. “They probably didn't know about Lydia being a banshee until she screamed.” 

“What happened to Stiles?” Scott demanded.

“You don't know?” Issac asked appalled.

“Would I be asking if I did?” Scott growled, eyes flashing red with anger.

“Someone put a bomb in his car,” Issac said. “He's okay, but it was all over the news. They called in the bomb squad and everything. But the bomb went off and the Jeep is gone.”

“I need to talk to Deaton,” Scott said. “I need to find out what can be done for my mother.” 

“You need to come with me to the Pack meeting,” Issac said. “Melissa has to wait.”

“The fuck did you just say?!” Scott got right into his face, fully shifted. Issac lowered his head and took several steps back in submission but lifted his head again a moment later eyes blazing golf as his beta shift surfaced.

“I love her too you know,” Issac replied quietly. “She's been kinder to me than any adult I've ever known, but this is bigger than you and your mom. This is about all of us.”

“Fine!” Scott growled and stalked away, shifting back to human. He was still angry, furious, but Issac had a point, he just didn't have to like it. 

**

Stiles had to make sure there was enough food and drinks for everyone at the meeting. He wasn't sure if everyone was going to show, considering everything that had happened, but it was better to make things comfortable as possible. As it was this was going to be a shit show with Rafael McCall and his father front and center to the werewolf apocalypse that was the usual McCall pack meeting.

“We had a visitor today,” Peter told him quietly from where he was sitting in the living room, reading a book. Stiles jumped and clutched his chest in fright. 

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he asked. “I've had enough surprises for one day, thank you.”

“Well you need to be more aware of your surroundings,” Peter replied, flowing to his feet. 

“I knew you were there,” Stiles said defensively. “I just thought you were going to ignore me.”

“Of course you did,” Peter replied. “Unlike some people in this pack, I have never ignored you.”

“Still with the creepiness,” Stiles said pointing his finger at the older man.

Peter chuckled and walked past him into the kitchen. “Shall I cook again?” 

“Have at it,” Stile replied. “You can tell me all about this visitor.”

A little over an hour later the pack started to arrive in small groups. Stiles was surprised when Danny came in the house with Aiden and Lydia. All three looked like they were gearing up for an argument. Lydia was dressed down for once, sneakers and jeans with a nice blouse. Peter had already told him about Ethan, so he wasn't at all surprised when he wasn't with the small group. 

Derek and Cora came back carrying shopping bags from clothing stores. They had needed to replace everything except the clothes on their back. Neither of them looked happy, but it did seem they were calmer than before. Stiles peeked at one of the bags and saw that it was from the local uniform shop that his father bought his work clothes at. 

John arrived with Rafael not long after that. Things were tense, but the lack of reaction from the older members of the pack assured the rest that this was not an unexpected event. Rafael was introduced to everyone and his eyes widened at the sight of Peter Hale, but he didn't say anything. 

Finally, Scott and Issac arrived at the house. Both men carried anger and sadness around them like cloaks. Stiles understood what it was like to worry about a loved one's health. His mother had died in a hospital, after a long lingering illness. He didn't want that for Scott, he loved Melissa too.

“As the newest member of this group hasn't quite gotten the full story, Stiles would you?” John asked.

“I did not agree to this,” Scott protested as Stiles set up his presentation.

“That's a new section,” John commented, ignoring Scott. “When did you do that?” 

“Um, about an hour ago,” Stiles replied. He looked around the room as the expectant faces. “Okay since we have another life-altering crisis on our hands I figured now was a good time to remind everyone what is really going on.” He opened a tri-fold-board and the top said in bold print: The History of the World: Werewolf Addition.

“What the hell is that?” Rafael asked. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“Sit there and be quiet,” Peter said, eyes glowing purple. “You are about to be educated.”

“A long time ago when the world was a lot more primitive,” Stiles began. “Monsters roamed the earth openly and humans were often prey as well as predators. But humans were smart and found ways to kill the monsters. As time went on there were fewer and fewer monsters until only the ones that could disguise themselves as men remained. Eventually, men forgot that the monsters were real and they became legends and myths.”

“Unfortunately, it isn't possible to hide the true nature of some monsters all the time,” Stiles turned to his father. “Werewolves can't control the pull of the moon, so on the nights it is full, they run through the woods and howl, staying hidden from the eyes of men. But humans are fearful creatures and they often destroy what they don't understand. So when a monster is found, they would call upon specific families that would track down and kill the monster, making their communities safe.”

There was a knock on the back door. John went to see who it was a few minutes later, Allison and Chris Argent had joined the gathering, both looked like they were exhausted.

“Are you two alright?” Scott asked.

“We're fine, we have some information, but it can wait,” Allison said, glancing at Agent McCall and the sheriff.

“He's being brought into the loop,” John said. “I had this talk a yesterday.”

“Please continue, Stiles,” Chris said. 

“Right,” he replied, then continued from where he stopped. “As time goes and werewolves and men learn and grow there are fewer and fewer instances of 'monster attacks'. Sure there are the occasional rogue elements but for the most part, they're just like humans. They go to school, they get jobs, they fall in love, they get married, and they make babies. Not always in that order, but you get the point.”

“The problem is, it isn't nearly as rewarding a life for those dedicated to protecting humanity from monsters when the monsters don't do anything to warrant being hunted.” Stiles looked Chris in the eyes. “So they find reasons, any reason at all to kill them.” He looked at Peter. “Turning a person against their will is a killing offense.” He turned to Scott. “But so is turning someone that wants it because they could be cured of a medical infirmity.” He looked at Aiden. “Any display of savagery is suspect even if their family was abusive and they strike back the only way they know how.” He looked at Issac and then turned to Rafael. “Sometimes people are monsters without having the claws and fangs. No matter how much we love them they still hurt us and we need a bit of extra strength to stand up to them.” Stiles looked at Derek and Cora. “Hunters have their place, there are dangerous creatures out there, but that was not the case here in Beacon Hills. The Hales have lived here, protecting the people and the land for over two hundred years. Living in peace first with the local native population and then later with the settlers.”

“The Hales prospered because they were smart,” Stiles continued. “They created Beacon Hills as a safe haven and the town prospered. With prosperity comes wealth and from wealth comes jealousy.” He pointed to a part of his display. “In the late 80s, the hunters sent people to spy on the Hales. They didn't like what they saw. A strong pack with an emissary that was connected to the land. Deep in the woods there was a great tree that was the nexus for what most people call Ley Lines and what others call telluric currents. It kept the land stable and free of dangerous entities. Sean O'Donnell, a young and optimistic man, didn't see the pack as an immediate threat, he got to know several of them, including a young Peter Hale. I won't get into details, but Sean was sent back home to his family in disgrace after becoming compromised.”

“The O'Donnells have methods that return stray lambs to the fold that would have made Jim Jones giddy,” Peter said. “Brainwashing is a special skill they've perfected over the centuries. It is a shame really, Sean was a kind soul, once upon a time. He is quite the psychopath now.”

“Takes one to know one,” Scott muttered darkly. 

“Moving on,” John interrupted when it looked like the conversation was about to go sideways.

“Gerard Argent was sent in a few years later, found the great tree and poisoned it with arsenic,” Stiles said, glaring at Scott. “And because the emissary was connected to the tree, she became very ill. She wouldn't or couldn't sever her connection with the land or the tree and the poison started to cause chaos in the town.” Stiles pointed to a picture of his own mother. “It started to affect her so badly that she ended up in the hospital. Talia Hale was her best friend and she would rather lose the emissary than lose her friend, so she cut down the tree and when that didn't work, she offered to give Claudia Stilinski the Bite.”

“But before that could happen the hunters sent in Kate Argent and at Gerard's instruction, she sexually molested and emotionally manipulated a minor in the Hale family in order to extracted information from that child about how best to destroy the family.” Stiles pointed to the picture of the burned out house. “Everyone except for Laura, Derek, Cora, and Peter was killed. They all fled the territory except for Peter, who had been reduced to a vegetative state and placed in a nursing home. My mother died a horrible, slow, lingering death within months of the fire.” 

“Now wait just a minute,” Chris protested.

“The age of consent in California is eighteen, Chris,” John snapped. “In the eyes of the law that is rape and child molestation. It doesn't matter if the child was a willing participant in their own mind. It is still legally an act of rape.”

“Jesus,” Rafael said, looking sick. “I was still living here when the fire happened. How was this not more thoroughly investigated?”

“Kate bribed and coerced a half a dozen people into helping her kill that family, including the fire marshal,” John said. “So it was ruled an accident and no one went to jail for the deaths of over a dozen men, women, and children. The youngest of which was six months old.”

“Fast forward several years,” Stiles continued. “And Peter has healed enough to be able to move, but all that time trapped in his own body with the image of his wife and child burning to death before his eyes, he is far from sane.” He looked at Peter. “In his madness, he kills his niece, Laura, who had inherited her mother's Alpha status so that he could have enough strength to get the revenge he so dearly wanted. But alphas need a pack and so he gave the Bite to the first human he came across.” He looked at Scott. “Scott was lucky, the Bite can kill, but instead he became a werewolf.”

“The hunters returned in the form of Chris Argent and his family,” John said. “Because Peter was killing the people that were responsible for his family's death. Derek came back looking for his sister, but stayed to help Scott learn how to control his abilities.” 

“They would have been fine, but Argent family believed they were justified in terrorizing teenagers,” Stiles glared at Chris. “Shooting at them in the woods, threatening anyone they thought might have been part of the pack. Until the truth finally came out. The monsters were the wounded party and the heroic hunters were the real villains. Kate dies, Peter dies, Derek becomes the Hale Alpha and Scott and Allison get to live happily ever after. Except there is no such thing and-”

“Peter died?” Raphael said.

“I got better,” Peter shrugged as Lydia glared daggers at him.

“And just when things were starting to calm down, Gerard Argent shows up and the whole shit show starts all over again,” Derek said. “He claimed he was there to get vengeance for Kate's death.”

“Yeah, only he isn't actually out for revenge like he claimed he was,” Stiles replied. “The fucking hypocrite was dying of cancer and he wanted the Bite so that he could live. He drove Victoria Argent nee O'Donnell, Chris' wife, off the deep end by reminding her exactly what the O'Donnell matriarch would think of Allison dating a werewolf.”

“She trapped Scott in a room with an atomizer full of wolves bane,” Derek said. “When I tried to rescue him, she attacked me. We fought and I bit her on reflex. 

“How the hell she didn't kill herself pulling that stunt is beyond me,” Stiles replied. “Aconite is just as poisonous to human as it is to werewolves. More so actually.”

“Wait, so your mother is a werewolf now?” Rafael asked.

“No,” Allison said quietly. “She killed herself rather than live as a wolf.”

“Good god,” Rafael looked at the surrounding people. “Please tell me this is some kind of joke, Scott.”

“It's not,” Scott replied evenly. It was very obvious he was not happy with the current show and tell.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” he demanded, turning to Stiles.

“Because you need to know why your ex-wife was targeted,” Stiles replied sharply. “The hunters are targeting the family and friends of the werewolves that live in this town. We are all guilty by association. You have a target on your back just because you are Scott's father.”

“And don't think for a second that your job will keep you safe,” Peter said. “I caught Sean O'Donnell trying break into this house not three hours ago. I had to let him go, as I thought there was a very good chance his accomplices would kill Ethan Stein, as it seems they have captured him.”

“So you know it is the O'Donnells?” Allison asked with relief.

“I suspected when the letter was left on Derek's car,” Peter said. “They have a flair for the dramatic. Seeing Sean confirmed it. I take it they paid you a visit.”

“They threatened to kill me and take Allison back to with them to the O'Donnell compound for re-education if we tried to interfere with their plans,” Chris acknowledged.

“Oh fun,” Stiles muttered. “Great, we can add kidnapping and extortion to the list of charges against them assuming we don't end up killing them all.” 

“We're not killing anyone,” Scott shouted. “It doesn't have to come to that.” 

“Give me a fucking break, Scott,” Stiles shouted back. “Your mother is practically a vegetable, I nearly died today, Ethan is missing, and Lydia's mother is fucking dead. We are well past the point of a peaceful resolution to this situation.”

“No one is killing anyone,” John said. “Not if it can be helped.” 

“You stay out of this, you aren't part of the pack,” Scott said, rounding on the sheriff. “You don't get to have a say!”

“Like hell,” John replied. “You are still a minor, Scott. I don't care if you self-actualized yourself into an alpha or not. The only way you can prove that you are an adult is if you act like one and from where I'm standing, you still have a lot of growing up to do.”

Scott's eyes turned red with anger, his claws and fangs extended in a show of aggression. He looked like he was about to lunge at John, but Peter stepped between them, his body in full beta shift.

“I wouldn't if I were you,” Peter said. “I know it is difficult to understand with that oversexed brain you are currently using, but you are outnumbered by the people in this room who would turn on you if you so much as scratched the sheriff.”

“I wasn't going to hurt him,” Scott denied, taking a step back. 

“Yes, you were,” Danny said. “Your intent was pretty clear and from where I stand and intent is everything.” His eyes glowed white for a moment, startling everyone in the room.

“Holy crap, Danny,” Stiles said. “What happened to you?” 

“Someone shot me to death at the lake,” Danny sighed. “I ascended to my ancestral legacy.” 

Despite the severity of the moment, Stiles couldn't help smiling. “Wait, are you a were-shark? I was reading about Hawaiian shape-shifter legends.” 

“No,” Danny replied. “I'm a Mo'o.”

“Holy shit, really?” Stiles dropped his smile in shock. “But this is fantastic!'

“I'm confused,” Rafael said.

“He can help us purify the Nemeton,” Stiles said excitedly. “Well, the ground and water around it anyway. The stump itself still has to be excised from the ground. If you're willing, I mean.” 

“One thing at a time,” Danny said. “I'm still getting used to this new form. A major undertaking like that will need study and preparation that I don't think we have time for at the moment.”

“You're right,” Stiles replied. “But this is good, not that you were shot, but that you're willing to help.”

“We're getting off track,” Scott said. “We need to get Ethan back, without bloodshed. I'm going to call Deaton. He could work as a go-between and see what they want in exchange for him.”

“You want to negotiate?” Lydia said in disbelief. “After what they've done?” 

“Were you not listening to me at all for the last twenty minutes?” Stiles demanded. “These people are fanatics. They are not hunters, they are terrorists.”

“All they will do is agree to a meeting and then try to kill whoever shows,” Peter said. “That is what happened with Deucalion. The hunters created him, but that does not forgive what he did afterward. You will be betrayed by them and you will take us all down with you, Alpha.”

“You don't even know if Deaton knows how to contact them,” Derek pointed out.

“Sure he does,” Peter said with a cold smile. “They left a calling card with him when they were hunting me down a few nights ago.” He pulled out the spent bullet from his pocket. “They don't bother with wolfsbane anymore. These are quite effective, I doubt even an alpha would survive a shot to a major organ.”

“I'm not going to let this escalate,” Scott said. “I'm going to talk with them. If you don't want to go then fine, stay out of it.” He stormed out of the meeting, Issac only a step behind him. 

“Scott!” Rafael called, chasing after him. The door front door shut behind them. The sound of two vehicles leaving, one a motorbike, the other a car could be heard a few minutes later. 

“That went well, I thought,” Peter said, sarcastically.

Stiles collapsed into a chair, pulling at his hair in frustration. “I've got nothing.”

“We can't let him go to a meeting with them alone,” Allison said. “They'll kill him.”

“We're not going to,” Derek said. “We're going to protect him even if he doesn't think he needs it.” 

**

End


	4. Blood Borne

Rafael didn't know where his son was headed, but considering the speed and recklessness of his weaving in and out of traffic, he was pretty sure it wasn't the local library. He tried to wrap his head around what he had been told, that monsters were real, that his son was one. He shook his head at the way his thoughts tracked. His son wasn't a monster, he was a werewolf, but that didn't make him a monster.

 

He had been a member of the FBI a long time, he had seen some of the worst aspects of the human condition. What people did for money, for power, for their ideology defined who they were. Monsters that reveled in the gains they made regardless of who they hurt and what they destroyed in the process. Monsters were the people that worked in an office and were thought of pillars of the communities but beat their wives and children when they were behind closed doors.

 

He readily admitted, at least to himself, that he was no saint. He had starting drinking because of the stress of his job. It became a crutch that had turned into a very bad habit and nearly a full-blown addiction. He hadn't realized it had been a problem until he had nearly killed his own son by knocking him down a flight of stairs. Scott had only been six at the time and luckily doesn't remember what happened, but it had been enough for him.

 

Rafael had moved out the next day and hadn't been back since. He had happily divorced himself legally from his wife but had been shocked when Melissa hadn't demanded child support or alimony. He had told himself to remember to provide for his family, to make sure they had what they needed. All it had taken was the next hard case for that promise to slip his mind. The money he was supposed to set aside for his child went into a better apartment, a nicer car. It wasn't until a few months ago when he had finally returned to Beacon Hills that he saw the results of his neglect.

 

The house that he and Melissa had chosen was in disrepair. The paint was peeling, the gutters were coming free from one side of the house. There was duct tape holding part of the front porch railing together. Then there was his wife's car, with a missing side view mirror and a rusting undercarriage. The car had been second hand when she had bought it the year before they had gotten married, now it was barely street legal. The furniture inside the house hadn't changed much, other than a large screen TV that came from the cheaper poorer quality manufacturers, a few game consoles that had to have been bought second hand.

 

Rafael had taken his shame and anger out on the people that least deserved it in such an open and obvious way that the mayor had filed a formal complaint against him. He had been called to the carpet of the Assistant Director's office for his displaced anger and general unprofessional behavior when he tried to undermine John Stilinski's authority. He had been put on administrative leave for a month, ordered to see the department psychologist, and threatened with a transfer across the country if he didn't get his head together.

 

When word of the explosion at the high school had come in, he had requested the case. He was on strict orders to cooperate with local law enforcement. He knew he was basically being tested to see if he would screw up again, and yet the moment he saw Stiles, he'd acted like an asshole. The young man had always seen right through him even as a small child. Rafael couldn't charm him the way he could others. Stiles would just stare at him distrustfully like he could see all of his misdeeds and was judging him for it.

 

Rafael turned automatically when Scott went down a side road to a large converted house that was marked “Animal Clinic”. He knew Dr. Alan Deaton was Scott's boss, but he hadn't realized that he was also the man that Scott wanted to speak to about arranging a meeting with the people terrorizing the town.

 

He pulled up next to Scott's bike as he and Issac climbed off the back of it. “Issac, wait for me inside,” he said. He waited until the other young man was gone, then turned to his farther. “What are you doing here, Dad?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“I want to know what you are planning to do,” Rafael replied.

 

“Why do you even care?” Scott asked. “You've been gone for years now all of a sudden you find time in your busy schedule. Is this more one-ups-man-ship with the Sheriff or do yo actually give a damn?”

 

“I'm your father, Scott,” Rafael said, tiredly. “Yes, I should have had some sort of active relationship with you, even if it was a phone call once a week and that is on me, but you can't expect me to ignore the fact that you're current actions are suspect.”

 

“ _Suspect?”_ Scott sneered. “You have no god-damned idea what has happened to me the past year. Stiles bullshit show and tell doesn't even scratch the surface.”

 

“Then tell me,” Rafael said. “I'll listen, maybe I can help.”

 

“Like you helped when the electricity in the house was turned off because we couldn't pay the bill for three months?” Scott asked. “I was twelve years old and I had to wash my clothes at Stiles' house for two weeks while mom had to beg the utility company to accept installments to pay the past due bills. Where the fuck were you when I ended up in the hospital for nearly a week after my asthma went crazy?”

 

Rafael winced. “If I had known.”

 

“Why didn't you?” Scott demanded. “Why the fuck did you _leave_?!” His eyes blazed red with anger.

 

Rafael realized that he wasn't just dealing with an angry child, he was dealing with a creature with powers he had only seen in monster movies. He had no idea what his son was capable of now. “Scott, I left because I did something unforgivable,” he said softly. “I left because your mother couldn't trust me to care for you and she was right to do it.”

 

“What?” Scott was visibly taken aback.

 

“I wasn't a good father to you, I wasn't ready for the responsibility,” Rafael said. “I'm still not, I still make the same stupid mistakes over and over. I'm good at my job, I'm great at it, really, but I've never been good at commitment when it comes to my personal life. I loved your mother and I thought we could make it work, but everything was so much harder than I thought it was going to be.”

 

“Right, because you had it so hard,” Scott scoffed.

 

“But that is the point,” Rafael said. “I didn't have a hard life. I skated through school, my family had enough money to be more than comfortable. I had it so damned easy until I was suddenly responsible for more than just myself. I thought having a family was going to be easy too. I didn't know the first thing about it and I ruined the best thing I ever had because I was too self-centered to understand what was really at stake.”

 

“Are you asking for forgiveness?” Scott asked.

 

“No, I'm trying to...,” Rafael stopped and sighed. “Look, I don't doubt that you think you are doing the right thing, but maybe you need to take a step back and see the bigger picture.”

 

“I see the big picture,” Scott replied, impatiently. “If we do nothing Ethan will probably die. If we attack them, he will definitely die and the fight will probably take a few of us down as well. I want to save everyone. I want the hunters to not see us as a threat. The only way to do that is to talk to them.”

 

“Stiles seemed to think that talking wasn't an option,” he replied.

 

Scott's expression morphed into something between anger and guilt. “I can't trust his opinion on this. He's not the same person he was before.”

 

“What the hell does that mean?” Rafael asked, confused.

 

“We did this ritual, a near-death sacrifice in order to find our parents before this crazy evil druid killed them,” Scott said. “Me, Allison, and Stiles put ourselves into hypothermic shock in order to cross into the veil between worlds. It worked, but Stiles doesn't have the same protections that I have, Alan told me that he needed to be watched closely for signs of outside influence until that issue is addressed I shouldn't trust his motivations.”

 

“So you're just going to ignore everything he says?” Rafael asked. “Don't you think that's a little harsh?”

 

“As the alpha, I have to protect the entire pack, not just my friends,” Scott said. “If that means stepping back from my friend, then I'll do it.”

 

“I don't know what to tell you, Scott,” Rafael said. “He sounded like he knew what he was talking about as far as these hunters are concerned.”

 

“Well he always thinks he knows everything,” Scott muttered. “Is that invitation to stay with you tonight still open?”

 

“Of course,” he replied, stunned.

 

“Then I'll take you up on that,” Scott said. “Can you go to the hotel and make the arrangements while I talk to Dr. Deaton?”

 

“Are you sure?” Rafael asked.

 

“I'm sure,” Scott replied. “You can tell me about how you got a job with the FBI.”

 

Rafael walked back to his car, elated that his son wanted to spend some time with him. He could try to learn more about what had happened while he had been away.

 

**

 

Scott watched as his father drove away with a sense of relief. He hadn't wanted to fight with his father and the way that the conversation was going, it would have ended with shouting. He turned and entered the clinic, to find Issac and Deaton waiting for him. The room smelled strongly of the incense Alan used for meditation. He could see evidence that the druid had been burning a small cone of it at his desk. It always made him think of a church when he smelled it.

 

“I take it your father will not be joining us?” Alan said with a small approving smile.

 

“No,” Scott said, “Not this time.”

 

“Issac has been filling me in on what has transpired,” Alan said. “I'm glad you decided to come to me for assistance.”

 

“So do you think it would be worth it, to try to talk to them?” Scott asked.

 

“Violence should never be the first response,” Alan said evenly. “A lack of control is what started the conflicts between wolves and humans in the first place.”

 

“So you will contact them for me?” Scott asked.

 

“I can do that, but I have to wonder what you want me to say?” Alan replied.

 

“Tell them that the McCall pack had nothing to do with the events that caused this feud they have with the Hales. I want to know what it would take for them to stand down and walk away,” Scott said. “I don't want this to escalate beyond what already happened.”

 

“I'll convey your message,” Alan promised. “But are you sure this is what you want to do? The rest of the pack, especially Lydia will not be pleased.”

 

“I'm the alpha, I make the final decisions,” Scott said, pulling himself straighter. “Nothing will be accomplished with more bloodshed.”

 

“I applaud your reasoning,” Alan replied. “Issac? You have something to say?”

 

“I'm not sure this is the right thing to do,” Issac said. “I mean, all the action shows say we shouldn't negotiate with terrorists. Stiles said-”

 

“Stiles doesn't know everything,” Alan said sharply. “Hunters follow a strict code, as you well know. If you go in good faith, they will follow it.”

 

“Of course,” Scott said, his head a little dizzy from the smell of the incense. “Do you have to burn so much of that stuff?”

 

“You find it too strong?” Alan asked. “I suppose your senses make it easier to detect. I'll burn less from now on.”

 

“We should probably get going,” Issac said, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“Oh, while the two of you are here,” Alan said. “I would like you to meditate on your anchors. Such upheavals in a pack can make it difficult to maintain a stable anchor, there for maintaining control of your wolf.”

 

“I'm fine,” Issac said. “I've never had a problem.”

 

“Well, then this exercise should be easy for you,” Alan said. “Scott, however, has been having problems since he became an alpha. Perhaps you can help him.” He led them to a room he used for examining large animals.

 

Scott immediately settled down on the floor near the far wall, his legs crossed and his wrists settled on his knees in a classic meditation pose. “Give it a try, Issac, it has helped me a lot.”

 

“Sure, I guess I can help,” Issac said. “What do you want me to do?”

 

“Just sit opposite Scott and think about what it is about your anchor that makes it strong and stable,” Alan said. “You should think about why you trust it and what it means to you.”

 

Scott opened his eyes in shock at the sound of someone shouting at him. He looked down and saw that he had moved. He was not sitting on the floor, he was standing over Issac, there was a sheen of red over his vision and all he could feel was rage. Issac was a bloody mess, with scratches and claw marks all over his body.

 

He looked down at his own hands, they weren't the typical morphed claws, he had fur from his shoulders to the backs of his fingers, his center of gravity was higher and he was looking down past an elongated snout. There was a mirror on the door and he could see what he looked like. He didn't recognize the creature reflected back. It reminded him of the monster alpha Peter had been.

 

“Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me,” Issac said over and over. “I'll be good, I promise.”

 

“Deaton?!” Scott shouted, or tried to. What came out was an agonizing roar that caused Issac to curl into a frightened ball.

 

“Scott! What have you done?” Alan demanded as he ran into the room.

 

Scott shifted back to his human form, his body shaking. “I don't know. I don't remember anything.”

 

“You were trying to find your anchor,” Alan said. “What were you thinking about?”

 

“I was... I was thinking about my mom,” Scott said. “But I kept seeing her in the hospital. I don't remember anything else.” He stared at the blood on his hands, it was still warm and sticky. He felt physically ill at the injuries he had caused.

 

“Why don't you clean up,” Alan said. “I'll take care of Issac.”

 

“I can help,” he said reaching for his friend. Issac whimpered and shrank away from his touch.

 

“I think it best if you let me handle this,” Alan said.

 

“I am so sorry, Issac,” Scott said as he backed away and headed for another examination room. He washed the blood away at the sink, his mind racing. How could he have attacked his beta, the person he had been looking to as his Second for weeks now?

 

Several minutes later Alan came to find him. He had shed his lab coat and was looking a little tired. “Issac will be fine,” he said. “He's currently asleep and I'm going to leave him there while he heals.”

 

“I don't know what happened,” Scott said. “Do all alphas go through this?”

 

“Derek didn't, but then he had created several betas within a month of becoming an alpha,” Alan reminded him. “Your betas are all from other packs.”

 

“Are you saying I need to make betas,” Scott asked.

 

“Not at all,” Alan replied. “It is simply a possible cause of your problem.”

 

“What should I do?” Scott asked.

 

“Go get some sleep,” Alan said. “I've conveyed your wish to speak to the O'Donnells. They said they are willing to meet. They'll contact me tomorrow with the details.”

 

“Okay, yeah,” Scott said, nodding. “I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

 

“Tell Issac, I'm sorry,” Scott said.

 

“He knows,” Alan assured him and usher him out the door.

 

**

 

Stiles shot up straight in his bed, his heart pounding. He had been dreaming of the bomb in is Jeep. The feeling of helplessness as he had sat there for over an hour until Derek had found him. It could have ended so much worse. His imagination had supplied him with plenty of alternatives while awake and sleep just made it all the more surreal.

 

There was a light knock on is bedroom door. “I'm okay,” Stiles said.

 

“Can I come in?” his father called.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said.

 

“Nightmare?” John asked, sitting at the desk chair.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles confirmed.

 

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

 

“Not really,” Stiles admitted.

 

John grimaced but nodded. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure,” Stiles replied.

 

“What was all that about your mother being an emissary?” John asked.

 

“I found references in the town's history about Mom's family having been here just as long as the Hales,” he said. “I did some checking and her illness started soon after Gerard poisoned the Nemeton. So I asked Peter about it. He said the emissary's identity had been a closely guarded secret, but he knew because he was Talia's enforcer.”

 

“She never told me,” John said, his voice filled with confusion and pain.

 

“She had oaths that she had to keep,” Stiles explained. “Oaths she took long before you met her.”

 

“I wish I'd known,” John said. “I feel like I was blind before now.”

 

“She didn't want you to worry, I guess,” Stiles replied. He looked at his hands. “There is something else, something I left out of our little show and tell last night.”

 

“What?” John asked.

 

“I think Alan Deaton may have contributed to Mom's death,” Stiles said.

 

“What?” John sat up in surprise.

 

“He was called in to try to keep the area stable because Mom was so sick,” Stiles replied. “I can't prove it, but I think he might have done something to make her worse.”

 

“That is a hell of an accusation, Son,” John said.

 

“I know, but she was having hallucinations of someone that was trying to kill her,” Stiles said. “Deaton is a druid, he would know what to give her to make her symptoms worse without causing anyone to be suspicious.”

 

“But why?” John asked.

 

“I don't know,” Stiles sighed. “Maybe he was jealous, maybe he wanted the Nemeton for himself. The problem is there is only one way to prove it.”

 

“No,” John said. “We are not exhuming her remains.”

 

“Dad,” Stiles said sharply. “He had Scott's, the alpha's, complete confidence. Nothing I say, without proof, will change Scott's mind.”

 

“We never did a full autopsy, her death was ruled natural causes and that was that,” John said. “If we do this we'll have to pay for it on our own.”

 

“I know,” Stiles said. “We'll use my college fund.”

 

“That won't be necessary,” Peter said from the doorway.

 

“Again with the creeper-wolf,” Stiles said after he jumped in fright.

 

“We will pay for the exhumation and the test,” Peter said. “Won't we Derek?”

 

Derek poked his head around the doorway. “Werewolf hearing, we couldn't help it. Sorry.”

 

“It's alright,” John replied. “This is going to expensive.”

 

“Of all the things we lost,” Derek sighed. “Money wasn't one of them. Between the family's collective wealth and the life insurance policies, we've never been short on cash.”

 

“If Deaton did something to Claudia,” Peter said. “I'll happily eviscerate him.”

 

“It'll take a few days to set it up, but I'll get the paperwork started in the morning,” John said. He pointed to Peter. “No eviscerating until we find out if we can get a conviction. I'd rather see him rot in prison for a decade or two then die.”

 

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles said softly.

 

“Try to get some more sleep,” John said, ruffling his hair, before standing up and heading back to his own bedroom.

 

“Night, Dad,” Stiles replied. He looked at Derek and Peter. “I noticed you aren't dressed for sleeping, Peter.”

 

“I'm going for a moonlight walk,” Peter said. “Don't wait up.”

 

“Don't do anything crazy,” Stiles replied.

 

“It's like you don't even know me,” Peter replied, clutching at his heart as he headed silently down the stairs.

 

“I'll let you get some sleep,” Derek said as he turned away.

 

“Please stay,” Stiles said before he could stop himself. “Just until I fall asleep.”

 

Derek entered the room and sat down at the desk chair. “I'm not going to ask if you're alright because it's pretty obvious that you aren't.”

 

“All of this crap has brought up so much old pain,” Stiles said. “My mother wasn't sane when she died. Sometimes she would say things about someone trying to kill her and the medical staff would sedate her. I can't help wondering if she was right. That maybe she saw Deaton do something because he had visited her a couple of times before and after the fire.”

 

“How do you know?” Derek asked.

 

“It's going to sound crazy,” Stiles said.

 

Derek lifted his eyebrows. “And what's going on now isn't?”

 

“When I was under the water, there was this moment when I separated from Scott and Allison,” Stiles said. “I was standing next to the Nemeton, only it was completely healthy. This huge oak tree that just radiated life. My mom was standing next to it and she was arguing with someone about the tree. Deaton was saying that the connection my mother had to the tree should be shared. But mom kept trying to explain how the power and connection was only given to those worthy of it. It couldn't be forced because the tree chose the guardian.”

 

“Then I saw her in the hospital and Deaton was putting something in her tea,” he continued. “He kept trying to get her to relinquish her ties to the land. She always refused, even when she was completely delusional, she held onto it, saying only the land would choose her successor.”

 

“I've never fully trusted him,” Derek admitted. “He always seemed a little off to me.”

 

“I know, you originally thought he might be the alpha,” Stiles remembered.

 

“Who knows what he's really up to,” Derek said. “I don't want you to worry about Deaton for now. We'll deal with him when we have more evidence. Just stay away from him if you can.”

 

“Trust me, I want nothing to do with him,” Stiles replied. He yawned suddenly and settled back into his bed. “Thanks for listening to me.”

 

“Well, I've been told that communication is important, especially at the beginning of a relationship,” Derek said softly.

 

“Is that what we have now?” Stiles asked, hopefully.

 

“I think we do,” Derek said. “The start of one.”

 

“I always thought you were disgustingly hot, you know,” Stiles mumbled, eyes closed.

 

“I know,” Derek replied. “Werewolf senses and all.”

 

“Oh my god!” Stiles' eyes went wide. He stared at Derek who was trying very hard not to laugh. He grabbed his pillow and hit him over the head repeatedly. “You're such an asshole and I hate you.”

 

“No, you don't,” Derek laughed, blocking the blows with his arms.

 

“True,” Stiles admitted. “But you're still an ass.” He gave Derek one last hit with his pillow before rolling over so his back was turned to the man and feigned sleep until he actually dropped off into slumber.

 

** **

 

Meghan helped her father clean and dress the deep claw marks on his chest for the second time that night. They had bled a lot by the time he had managed to get back to their house. He wasn't as weak as he had been, but he wasn't in any shape for a fight.

 

“I'll make those animals pay for this,” she promised.

 

“I'll be fine,” Sean said. “Who was it that called?”

 

“Deaton,” Meghan snorted. “The druid has turned out to be useful after all.”

 

“Really?” Sean said.

 

“Apparently the alpha puppy wants to talk about reparations and de-escalation,” she shook her head. “I almost feel sorry for it.”

 

“What did you tell them?” Sean winced as pressure was applied to a deep cut that wouldn't stop trickling blood.

 

“That we will take the meeting,” she replied. “In six days we'll meet at the burned out shell of the Hale house and parley. Until then, there will be no more attacks from our side.”

 

“And the truth?” Sean asked.

 

“I've called in Patrick,” she replied. “He has the new long range bullets. His flight arrives in the morning.”

 

“That's my girl,” Sean leaned up and kissed her forehead. “Now, make sure the stage is set for the big day.”

 

“I know what to do,” she assured him. She finished setting the bandages and headed out.

 

Sean watched her go before climbing to his feet and heading down into the basement again. He looked glanced up at the wolf still bleeding on his wall and considered his options. At this rate it would take weeks for the creature to die, unlike humans, werewolves could go days without food or water.

 

He sat down at his computer and pulled up his private account. There was a message from his mother waiting for him. He grimaced, he loved her, but she could easily cause small jobs turn into large operations if she decided things weren't going fast enough. All the message said was “Call me.”

 

He reached for his phone and dialed without a second thought. He waited as the phone rang several times before being answered.

 

“ _Hello, Sean,”_ Shanahan O'Donnell said. _“I was wondering when you would get my email,”_

 

“I was out of the house, Mother,” Sean replied. “Doing good works.”

 

“ _Good works?”_ she laughed. _“I see nothing good in what you have accomplished thus far. All of your primary targets are still alive.”_

 

“You know how these operations go,” Sean said. “We have to be circumspect.”

 

“ _I see nothing circumspect about that bomb you put in the Stilinski boy's car, Sean,”_ she said. _“The incident is starting to get picked up by more than just the local papers.”_

 

“You needn't worry, the Hales and the True Alpha will be dealt with by the end of the week.”

 

“ _About the Alpha,”_ she said. _“I have been in communication with one of my contacts. I have been assured that McCall will not be a problem for much longer. Concentrate on the Hales, McCall may turn out to be far more useful alive.”_

 

“Understood,” Sean replied. “He has made contact, by the way. He wishes to end the conflict.”

 

“ _Excellent,”_ she replied. _“Tell him to bring the last members of the Hale bloodline to the meeting. After you destroy them, the final anchors to Beacon Hills will be gone and the land will be free of their corrupting influence.”_

 

“And what of the other wolves?” Sean asked.

 

“ _When McCall proves himself to be the unstable animal that he is, the pack will reject him,”_ she replied. _“Without an alpha to guide them, they will all fall into omega status and will be easy to kill.”_ There was a pause on the line. _“Once the pack is dead, I want the Stilinski boy eliminated. He knows far too much.”_

 

“As you wish, Mother,” he replied. The call ended abruptly and Sean was left wondering if there wasn't more to the issue of the Stilinski family than he had been told. He shrugged it off, if his mother thought it was important enough she would have told him.

 

**

 

_Red was the color of life, it flowed through the world in the blood of the living. Red was the color of death it flowed into the ground after each kill. Red was the color of the Alpha, it proclaimed their dominion over life and death within the pack._

 

_The world was crimson as he ran through his territory, quietly he scaled the building and pulled open the window. The woman in the bed looked so frail, he would fix that. She would be strong and run with the pack. He inhaled her scent, to remember it before the change. Then he lifted the edge of the gown, exposing her left side and bit her deeply just above the hip bone. The location would hide any scar that remained. Blood flowed from the wound for several minutes and then slowed to a trickle, the skin was already knitting itself back together._

 

_Satisfied by his work, he turned to leave. He heard a voice speaking softly. “You have to go now Mason, visiting hours have been over for quite a while now.”_

 

“ _I know, but he'll be all alone,” another said._

 

“ _We'll take good care of him,” the first voice assured. “Go home, get some sleep.”_

 

_The voices continued down the hall and he waited for a moment before heading into the other room. This one smelled of injury and pain, but one look said that the boy would be strong. It was easy to hide the Bite under the layers of bandages that were still seeping blood. He stepped away and into the hallway, out the window and down to the ground level where the other boy was getting on his bicycle._

 

_The other should not go through this change alone, his friend will be with him. It was terrible to go through things alone. Pack was all, pack was family. He took a parallel course, following the bike until they reached a secluded patch of undeveloped land. He leaped from the cover of the trees and knocked the boy off his bike. He bit down on the boy's leg as they tumbled together. The boy cried out in pain, scrambling away. The alpha dove back into the thick brush and ran toward the deeper, older woods, satisfaction thrummed through his veins and he let out a howl that echoed into the night._

 

**

 

When Peter heard the howl deep in the woods his first instinct was to answer it, but he resisted. He waited until the urge to follow the sound reduced from a need to a mere suggestion before heading into the trees. When he first caught sight of the creature, he honestly didn't quite believe he was seeing it. It was nearly the same alpha form he had taken in his madness.

 

He thought better of confronting the creature, instead, he backtracked its scent into town. The first thing he came across was a young black teenager clutching his leg in pain where he was laying on the ground.

 

“Well fuck,” he whispered before stepping into the light of a street lamp. “Are you alright?”

 

“No,” the young man said. “Something bit me.”

 

“Come on, I'll get you some help,” he said as he hoisted the young man into his arms.

 

“Can't you just call for an ambulance?”

 

“Sorry, no, I don't have my cell phone when I take my nightly constitutionals,” he lied easily. “What is your name?”

 

“Mason Hewitt,” he said through gritted teeth. “My bike.”

 

“I'm Peter,” he replied. “We'll get it for you later.”

 

“Damn dog was probably rabid. I'm gonna end up in the hospital right next to Liam.”

 

“Liam?” Peter asked, keeping up the conversation so that the boy didn't actually notice how fast he was moving.

 

“Liam Dunbar, my best friend,” Mason said. “He was in an accident, fell off the top bleachers at school. He's in the ICU, they said the brain swelling needed to go down before they would know if he would be okay.”

 

“I see,” Peter brought them right to the door of the Stilinski residence. He pounded on the door and John opened it with bleary eyes.

 

“Peter? What-? Who is this?” he asked.

 

“Sheriff Stilinski, Mason Hewitt, Mason, this is the town sheriff, he is trained in first aid and will be happy to take your statement about the giant, possibly rabid, dog that bit you.”

 

John stared at him in horror for a long moment before his brain seemed to kick in. “Right. Nice to meet you, Mason. Let's get you situated on the couch while I get the first aid kit.”

 

It took several minutes to get things situated. By then Stiles, Derek, and Cora were all awake and staring at the scene with mixed expressions of horror and anger. Cora stepped forward to help the sheriff make the boy more comfortable while Stiles ran to get his cellphone.

 

Derek pulled him to the side. “What the hell?”

 

“We have an alpha biting people,” Peter said quietly. “Stay here and find out everything you can, I need to follow the alpha's trail, see where he went and if he gave the bite to anyone else.”

 

“I'll come with you,” Derek said.

 

“No, I think it would be best if I did this on my own,” Peter said. “I want you to call the Argents and let them know the situation is being handled.”

 

“I am not calling them,” Derek hissed.

 

“Guys,” Stiles said coming to stand with them. “Scott isn't picking up his phone again.”

 

“Well that's rather unfortunate,” Peter said. “Derek, be a good Second and call the Argent family.”

 

“Issac isn't answering his phone either,” Stiles said, frustrated.

 

“Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to finish my walk,” he said. “See if I can't find that dog.”

 

“Peter wait,” John called. “Is this what it looks like?” He looked to the others for confirmation.

 

“Yes, Sheriff, I believe it is,” Peter replied. “I'm going to make sure this dog didn't bite anyone else tonight.”

 

“You'll let me know what you find out,” John said.

 

“Of course Sheriff, it is a matter of public safety, after all,” Peter replied,

 

“Thank you, for helping me,” Mason called.

 

“You're quite welcome, young man,” Peter said with a soft smile.

 

He went back to where he had found Mason and followed the scent trail through the neighborhood. He smirked a little when he found himself standing in front of the hospital. “Of course,” he said. “You followed Mason from here.” He walked around the perimeter of the hospital grounds checking for any sign of the alpha's trail. He paused when he saw a familiar motorbike parked in the visitor's section.

 

Peter looked up at the third-floor windows and saw one was slightly ajar. After a quick inspection of the side of the building, he found it had claw marks in the facade. He made his way up the wall and peered inside. He felt a cold sense of foreboding when he recognized Melissa McCall in the bed nearest the window. He climbed inside and checked her vitals, spending years hooked up to medical equipment had given him quite a bit of knowledge about what the readings meant.

 

Issac had said that her vitals had been very low, but these looked healthy, nearly ready to wake up. There was a pool of blood on the bed linens, not a lot, but enough that it would concern the medical staff. He slipped out of the room and followed the fading scent of the alpha to another room. The boy in the bed looked good as well, no signs of the injuries that Mason had spoken of, other than the bandages. Small puncture wounds in the bandages showed where the Bite has been made, a quick application of another layer of gauze hid the alpha's crime.

 

Peter checked the hallway and saw that, for the moment, things were quiet. He found a linen closet and grabbed a clean set of sheets and a gown of the same pattern that Melissa was wearing. He changed the sheets on the bed the same way his nurses changed his when he had been bedridden. Carefully rolling Melissa from one side of the bed to the other, hooking the sheet corners and setting her to rights. He covered her with the fresh gown before untying the old one then set it in place. No one would be the wiser about her injury.

 

He was almost certain he knew who the alpha was. If he was right, it could destroy the pack's cohesion, such as it was. Three new _willing_ betas had been too much for Derek, three betas with no concept of what had happened to them was going to be a nightmare to train, assuming they weren't all killed by hunters before their second full moon.

 

He left the hospital and went back to where he had met Mason, picked up the boy's bicycle and sighed. The frame was twisted out of shape. He left the bike where he found it and continued to follow the alpha's trail. He reached the top of Beacon Hill and shook his head at the sleeping form of Scott McCall sprawled out in a heap on the cold ground.

 

Peter settled down on a fallen log and watched the alpha twitch and moan softly. This was not normal behavior by any stretch of the imagination. The alpha reeked of blood and, of all things, nutmeg.

 

He frowned and thought about what he knew of that spice and its properties. As a chef, he'd been given the standard warnings about certain common spices. One of the most important was that nutmeg if taking in large doses it was not only poisonous, but it also had dangerous psychotropic effects. Scott McCall didn't strike him as the kind of person that would willingly take a mind-altering substance. So why did the boy smell like he was sweating it out of his pores?

 

**

 

Scott opened his eyes and was shocked when he realized he didn't know where he was. He had been on his way to his father's hotel room, but he couldn't remember anything after driving past the hospital. He was bare to the waist and he was missing his shoes. The sun wasn't up yet, but he could see the edges of light coming over the distant mountains to the east.

 

He recognized the coppery taste of blood in his mouth and he spat reflexively. He checked his hands, half expecting to find blood, but they were only covered in dirt. He searched his pockets, but his phone was missing. He would have to find his way out the old-fashioned way. He took one step down the hill and froze when he realized someone was behind him.

 

“Foolish boy,” Peter said. “You're in a bit of trouble, I think.”

 

“What did you do?” Scott demanded.

 

“Me?” Peter laughed. “I simply followed your trail. Between what you did to Mason Hewitt and the mischief you got up to in the hospital, I'd say you just might be more of a danger to this town than I was.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Scott demanded.

 

“You don't remember?” Peter asked in genuine concern. “At least I was fully aware of what I was doing, even in my madness.”

 

“What happened in the hospital?” Scott demanded. His eyes flashed red in anger.

 

“You gave your mother the Bite,” Peter said. “Along with a couple of teenaged boys that were also there. One was a patient, the other seems to have been his best friend.”

 

“No.” Scott stumbled back in shock. “No, I wouldn't!”

 

“And yet you did,” Peter said. “The blood in your mouth is proof enough. I wonder what the Argents will say?”

 

“Oh, god,” Scott gasped. “The full moon.”

 

“Is in eight days,” Peter said. “Yes. Your timing couldn't have been worse, or better, depending on your point of view.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“You are being manipulated, Scott,” Peter said. “Alphas do not just black out and have pockets of missing time.”

 

“It happened before when I was first bitten,” Scott said.

 

“Yes, because I was influencing you,” Peter reminded him. “Let me say this again. _Alphas_ do not just black out. Outside forces are influencing you.”

 

“Who?” Scott demanded.

 

“You're asking me?” Peter said. “How should I know? We've barely said ten words to each in the last month.”

 

“What do I do?” Scott asked in a panic.

 

“You are very fortunate that I found the one boy you bit. He was on the side of the road, bleeding,” Peter said. “I suggest you move quickly to find a place to secure them when the time comes.”

 

“I can't just kidnap someone!” Scott said.

 

“Did I say kidnap?” Peter asked. “No, I said secure. Be a good little Alpha and go round up your other betas for the awkward conversation that you swore you would never have to give someone.”

 

“Bastard!” Scott spat. “You think this is funny?”

 

“I think this is deadly serious for all of us, Scott,” Peter replied. “You turned not one, but three people without asking for permission first. What do you think will happen when word gets out of what you did?”

 

Scott paled. “They'll hunt us all down.”

 

“Congratulations, Alpha McCall,” Peter said sarcastically. “You're a monster.”

 

Scott's vision misted into red and he charged at Peter. He felt a surge of blood-lust as the older wolf's eyes widened in fear. He _wanted_ Peter to fear him for once. He reached out and grabbed the front of Peter's leather jacket, lifting him off his feet and with one arm smashed him into the ground. Bones cracked with the impact and Peter spit up blood.

 

Scott roared into the older man's face ready to rip the beta's throat out of he didn't submit to his will. He was the alpha now, not Peter, not Derek, him. He would make them submit if they didn't do it willingly.

 

But instead of submission, Peter started to laugh. Scott looked down at his immense claws and the fur that covered his arms. Blood was thick in the air as was the stink of fear.

 

“Tha-nk you, Scott,” Peter gasped. “You just proved my point.”

 

“No, I'm not a monster,” Scott denied backing away. “God, I have to talk to Deaton.” He ran through the woods, his heart pounding as he thought of the implications of what had happened yesterday. It felt like he could almost touch the memory of what had happened, but it was amorphous and slipped through his mental grasp.

 

He knew Alan wouldn't be at the clinic this early, so he ran to the druid's home which was located about a mile from there. It was a one-story ranch style house with lots of strange plants in the garden beds. He pounded on the door and was relieved when it was opened almost immediately.

 

“Scott?” he said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I'm in trouble,” Scott said. “The whole pack is in trouble.”

 

“Come in and explain,” Alan said with a worried expression.

 

Several minutes later he had finished what he knew of the event of that night. Alan had made him a cup of herbal tea. It was an odd tasting brew that Alan often shared with him at the clinic. He said it was an infusion of cloves and nutmeg along with a few other spices. He hadn't liked it at first, but Alan always offered it, and it was rude to refuse. Now that he was used to the flavor, it reminded him a little of holiday cookies and cakes.

 

“This is very disturbing, Scott,” he said. “Do you trust Peter at his word?”

 

Scott shook his head. “He's a murdering psychopath.”

 

“Can you think of anyone that would benefit if you lose control?” Alan asked.

 

“The hunters of course,” Scott said. “But I haven't been in direct contact with them.”

 

“Alright,” Alan agreed. “What about someone close to you? Someone that might be holding a grudge.”

 

“Like who?” Scott demanded. “Are you suggesting that Stiles would?”

 

“Scott, I know it is hard to believe, but people can change after a traumatic event,” Alan said smoothly, pouring another cup of tea.

 

“You're suggesting that Stiles is trying to destroy the Pack,” Scott said. “He would never do that.”

 

“Are you sure?” Alan asked. “I've been sensing a growing darkness within the town. Something that might have slipped through the veil while you were looking for the Nemeton. If it was a malevolent spirit, it could have easily latched onto an unwitting human.”

 

“You think that Stiles is possessed?” Scott asked, upset at the very idea.

 

“Maybe not possessed, but possibly has a shadow influencing his decisions,” Alan said. “After all, he did defy your wishes about revealing the truth to his father.”

 

“You did say that he might do that,” Scott conceded.

 

“And you didn't believe me,” Alan said smoothly. “I know it is hard to reconcile the friend you've known all your life with the person that he is now. Certainly, you never would have thought he would choose another man over you.”

 

“Wait, what?” Scott shook his head as he tried to clear it. The tea always left him feeling a little loopy and now was no exception.

 

“Stiles and Derek, surely you must have noticed,” Alan said. “They make a formidable pair.”

 

“They work well together,” Scott said with a shrug, confused by the change in topic.

 

“Did you know that Stiles is Derek's anchor?” he asked.

 

“No, Derek told me his anchor was his anger,” Scott said.

 

“Yes, but anchors can shift over time,” Alan replied. “Yours has certainly shifted.”

 

“But Stiles is _mine_ ,” Scott said feeling a surge of anger. “My friend I mean, my brother.”

 

“Is he really?” Alan asked. “From what I've seen he is Derek's more than he is yours these days.”

 

“Why would you say something like that?” Scott asked, his vision turning red.

 

“Have I ever lied to you, Scott?” he asked back, calm and assuring.

 

“No,” Scott replied. The red mist over his vision faded away.

 

“You have to choose to let Stiles go or try to bring him back to you,” Alan replied.

 

“What can I do?” Scott asked, feeling desperately angry at the thought of losing his best friend to Derek of all people.

 

“The O'Donnells have set terms for peace that, normally I would be appalled to mention,” Alan replied. “They want the Hales, all of them surrendered to hunter justice.”

 

“But Cora never did anything wrong,” Scott protested.

 

“It must be all of them, Scott, or the hunters won't honor the terms,” Alan insisted. “Once they have them they will leave the rest of the pack alone. What's more, you'll get your friend back. You want to have Stiles back, don't you?”

 

Scott nodded taking another sip of his tea.

 

“Of course you do,” Alan said with a smile. “Now let's talk about how to explain to the new betas what has happened to them.”

 

**

 

 

end

 


	5. Blood Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who will win in a battle when the outcome will affect not just the Hales, but the entire pack.

The next several days were something of a slow-motion avalanche of shit that Derek didn't want to deal with. Peter had returned late in the morning to the Stilinski residence bloody and barely healed from the beating Scott had given him. His description of Scott's Alpha form was disturbing as was the violence of his reaction to Peter's words. The discovery of both Melissa McCall and this other young man, Liam Dunbar, also having received and survived the Bite was horrifying. Mason Hewitt was doing well, if he was freaking out, that was understandable. His parents had been less than thrilled to get a call from the Sheriff but were relieved to know he would be alright.

 

“You think Deaton has done something to Scott?” John asked. “Deliberately?”

 

“I think Deaton has played our young alpha like a fiddle,” Peter said as he wiped the blood from the side of his still healing face. “I think he has Scott so turned around that he literally cannot distinguish his fears from reality. But Scott is as much to blame for this as Deaton. If he wanted to he could shake off the effects, but he finds comfort in it, I think.”

 

Derek turned to Stiles, who was sitting with uncharacteristic quiet, listening to what was said. “If Scott were in his right mind would he have turned these people?”

 

“I think he would have been sorely tempted to turn his mother,” Stiles began. “Liam was in a coma from an injury, Scott might think he was saving his life. But Mason? Attacking him and turning him against his will? It's too much like what happened to Scott himself, there is no way.”

 

“So what do we do now?” Cora asked. “We have no actual evidence that he is being manipulated. It's all a theory.”

 

“We'll get it,” John said. “But for now we keep a lid on this." “Stiles, I want you to head to the hospital check on Melissa and this Dunbar kid. Derek, I need you to go to the station and take the deputy's exam, right now. I don't care if you fail completely, I want you on the payroll as of tomorrow.”

 

Derek stared at him, stunned. “What?”

 

“If you're an official officer with a badge, you'll have a certain amount of protection,” John said. “Cora, get with Lydia and Aiden. I want the O'Donnell's home base found. Someone other than me has to call Danny, tell him we need Deaton's banking records hacked. Find out if he has been making large purchases of spices.”

 

“I'll take care of it,” Stiles promised, phone already in hand.

 

“Peter,” John turned to the older werewolf. “You're with me.”

 

“And where are we going?” Peter asked.

 

“We're going to find Issac,” John said. “He should have been with Scott and from what you said he definitely wasn't.”

 

“Check with Agent Asshole,” Stiles said. “If they didn't stay with him, then Issac is missing as well.”

 

“Right,” John sighed but didn't call his son out on his description of Rafael before he left.

 

Derek turned to Stiles. “Come with me, I'll let you drive my car after we get to the police station.”

 

“Seriously?” Stiles said, warily.

 

“Just feather the accelerator and you won't kill yourself,” Derek assured him.

 

“I have driven it before, remember.” Stiles grinned at him.

 

“I remember,” Derek grimaced. “Let's go before I change my mind.”

 

“Rude,” Stiles replied.

 

**

 

No one questioned Derek when he came in to take the written exam. It seemed they were so desperate to fill positions that they had been fast-tracking anyone that was interested in a post if they could pass the background check. He blew through the written test in less than an hour. He'd always been a quick study. The policies and procedures of law enforcement were something that he had been able to absorb with no problems.

 

Luckily, despite having been arrested several times, no charges had ever been filed against him, so his record was actually clean. He'd had his background checked extensively when he had first come back to Beacon Hills and those checks were still on file. Deputy Parrish sent him two blocks down the road to a local private practice medical doctor that normally did their physicals. Two hours after that he walked back into the sheriff's office with a clean bill of health. Parrish took him to the firing range and certified him as proficient in both pistols and rifles. He wasn't a dead shot, but his numbers were high enough to qualify.

 

It felt like it took forever but by the time the sun was hanging low on the horizon, all the paperwork was in place and he was an official employee of Beacon Hills. He was issued a badge and a gun, though he was less than thrilled with the prospect of having to carry one, he was fully versed in how to use one. His grandfather had been in law enforcement before he had married his grandmother and believed that everyone in his family should know how firearms worked.

 

Carmichael took him to the locker room and assigned him an empty locker. “We'll give you a combination lock for now, but if you want to get your own lock, we don't have a problem with that,” she said. “The room is co-ed, technically, but this side is for the men and the side closest to the wall is for the women. We respect the border most of the time. Just announce you're naked if that is the case.”

 

“Okay,” Derek said.

 

“Welcome to the force, Deputy Hale,” she said, shaking his hand. “Try not to get killed.”

 

“I'll do my best,” he replied as he started putting things in his locker.

 

“If you're up to it, we could actually use you tonight,” Carmichael admitted. “Graduation is tonight, so we need people for traffic control at the main sports field. It's better to start small and work your way up to patrolling.”

 

“Just show me where you want me,” Derek replied.

 

**

 

Issac opened his eyes slowly, when he did, he honestly wished he hadn't. He was laying down in a small cage, barely large enough to stand in. The bars were thick and smelled of ozone. He was shackled at the neck, wrists, and ankles. The chain between them was too short for him to stretch out at all. Worst of all was the gag over his mouth, it was thick and he could only breath through his nose.

 

He tried to pull on the shackles but felt sharp points dig into his neck. If he pulled too hard, he would slice his own throat. It wasn't as bad as the freezer his father would lock him up in, but it was difficult to stay calm. The most upsetting thing was the scent of two people he knew well. Scott's and Deaton's scent were all over the room, as was the smell of dogs and cats. That meant he was at the clinic, but he had never seen this room. Nor had he ever seen a cage like this.

 

A door opened flooding the room with artificial light. He winced at the brightness and whimpered when someone approached the cage.

 

“I see you're awake,” Deaton said. “I'm sorry to do this to you but can't afford your interference. You've been an excellent beta for Scott and I know you would try to change his mind about what he needs to do. You would have made an excellent Second as well. Just try to relax it'll all be over soon.”

 

Issac yelled at him through the gag, his eye went gold with anger as the druid walked away, closing the door behind him.

 

**

 

The evening after Derek's second day of being a deputy he came back to the Stilinski house to find everyone looked as exhausted as he felt. “I now know why police take vicious pleasure in handing out traffic tickets, people are idiots.”

 

“Welcome to my world,” John said sympathetically. “Directing traffic is always a hassle, it only turns into a nightmare when they don't pay attention.”

 

“So every time?” Derek asked, pulling off his belt and setting it on the kitchen counter.

 

“Put it in my office,” John said. “While I trust Stiles not to touch police-issued equipment, I'm not risking an accident, even when most of the people here will be werewolves.”

 

“So what have we found out?”

 

“Issac is among the missing,” John said. “Neither he nor Scott arrived at Rafael's hotel the other night.”

 

“We traced Scott to Deaton's home,” Peter added. “It seems he spent the last few days there. I wasn't able to learn anything as the druid has the grounds specifically warded against me. I can't imagine why?” He blinked innocently.

 

“How is Melissa?” Derek asked Stiles.

 

“She's doing really well, she woke up and is passing all the cognitive function tests with flying colors,” he said. “I already told her what happened. She's happy not to be dead, but she wants to have words with Scott. I'm looking forward to that conversation, seriously.”

 

“That's good to hear,” Derek said. He really liked Melissa she was one of the strongest people he'd ever met.

 

“On the other hand,” Stiles continued. “Liam Dunbar is going to be an issue.”

 

“How so?” John asked.

 

“Mason went to visit him while I was with Melissa,” Stiles replied. “That is one angry kid. We're definitely going to have to chain him up for his first full moon. Danny found out some stuff, but I'll let him tell you.”

 

Derek turned to Danny who had his computer up and was still typing things. “Danny?”

 

“One second,” he said typing for another full minute before hitting enter with a flourish. “Okay, first thing, Stiles isn't joking about Dunbar being an issue. The kid has had behavioral problems since he was six years old. He's been kicked out of three schools and has been put in Juvenile Detention once for beating a schoolmate bloody when he was ten.”

 

“Where was this?” John asked.

 

“His family used to live in Oregon, they only moved to Beacon Hills a few years ago,” Danny replied. “Trying to have a fresh start, I guess. He has a history violent outbursts, mostly verbal, but CPS does have a file on him and his family. Nothing points to abuse other than benign neglect on his parents part. They both work full time and he has spent a lot of time either alone or in the care of others. CPS's last report claims that he is seeking attention with his outbursts. ”

 

“Perfect,” Peter sighed. “That child would have never been offered the Bite by Talia. Perhaps she might have brought the family under observation, but that sort of behavior would not have been tolerated.”

 

“Observation?” John asked.

 

“The Pack's version of Child Protective Service,” Peter replied. “If there was an issue with a family in town we would observe them and see if it was a problem that could be handled discretely or if the proper authorities needed to be called in.”

 

“Like Issac and his father?” Stiles asked.

 

“Very good,” Peter agreed. “That sort of behavior would never have been tolerated, once discovered.”

 

“Good to know,” John muttered. “I wish it hadn't taken his death reveal what a vicious bastard he'd been.”

 

“I probably should have waited to offer Issac the Bite, but I needed him as much as he needed the protection of the Pack,” Derek admitted. “Liam is going to need monitoring at all times until he gets control.”

 

“In other news,” Danny said. “Deaton has made several purchases over the years from overseas spice companies. Some items are rare and expensive herbs and spices that are often used in spellcraft, but the most telling were the large orders of whole nutmegs and a lot of frankincense.”

 

“Frankincense?” Peter's head shot up. “That was what I smelled at the clinic the day I was shot.”

 

“Well that explains a lot,” Lydia said. “I will grudgingly admit that I'm impressed by his methods.”

 

“You're going to explain that to us, right?” Cora said.

 

“Frankincense has been used in religious ceremonies for centuries,” Lydia said. “But no one ever studied the effects of it on the human brain until recently. The study showed that people that concentrated on a topic, be it through prayer or scientific study, the frankincense caused a euphoric state of mind that we would equate with religious ecstasy. It is literally an anti-depressant that gives a person a positive feeling while under its influence, a feeling that over time will be equated with the object of study or worship.”

 

“So not only is Deaton giving Scott a psychotropic drug, he is also giving him doses of an anti-depressant?” Stiles said. “Which means what? He's getting paranoid and he feels good about it? Sounds a lot like brainwashing to me.”

 

“Deaton is reinforcing whatever he is telling Scott while he is under the influence of the nutmeg, with positive feelings created by burning frankincense,” Peter replied. “I would greatly admire his cunning if he weren't trying to tear this pack and this town to pieces.”

 

“We have the proof that he's doing this,” Aiden said. “Let's take him out!” He extended his claws and his eyes glowed amber. “One less enemy to worry about.”

 

“We can't,” Derek said. “Not yet.”

 

“Why, the hell, not?” he demanded.

 

“Any move we make against Deaton will only push Scott farther away,” Peter replied. “Our ties to the Alpha are already starting to weaken. We must try to get Scott to see the truth.”

 

“Besides, we have other problems,” Lydia said. “My mother's funeral is tomorrow. The viewing starts at noon and the funeral itself will be at three. Then there is the wake which will take the rest of the day.”

 

“It isn't safe,” Stiles said.

 

“I won't miss or postpone my mothers funeral,” Lydia said fiercely. “They may have taken her from me, but I won't let them take away my ability to mourn.” She looked around. “Besides, do you know how many people are going to be there? Those hunters would have to be complete idiots to try anything.”

 

“Point taken,” Derek replied. “Aiden, you are Lydia's bodyguard for the funeral, if you leave her side, it had better be life or death.”

 

Aiden nodded, putting a hand on Lydia's shoulder.

 

“Have we had any luck locating the O'Donnell's headquarters?” Stile asked.

 

“That I can tell you,” Danny said. “They are renting two houses side by side but only living in the one. They were foreclosed on by the bank during the housing crisis, but the kicker is that the houses were owned by the same family and they were a bunch of 'end of the world' types. The two houses have a tunnel that runs between the basements. That tunnel also connects to an old survivalist Cold War bunker in the backyard.”

 

“What are the odds that Ethan is in the bunker,” Aiden asked.

 

“I'd say they are pretty high,” Derek said. “We've been all over town and haven't seen a trace of him.”

 

“Then we go in and we rescue him,” Aiden said. “Now, tonight!”

 

“They've probably got the whole place full of anti-werewolf traps,” Stiles said. “Going in there half-cocked will just get you killed.”

 

“Give me probable cause and I'll call in the local swat team. We'll raid the both houses,” John said. “If we go in with a warrant, we can get them on kidnapping, murder, and attempted murder charges.”

 

“What are you all talking about?” Scott said from behind them.

 

Everyone turned eyes wide with surprise that the young alpha had entered the house without anyone noticing.

 

“We're trying to find Ethan,” Aiden said. “You remember that he's still missing, right? That the hunters have him?”

 

“I know,” Scott said. “I've been working with Dr. Deaton on a peaceful solution. One that will appease the O'Donnell's blood feud and return Ethan at the same time.”

 

“Not possible,” Lydia said tightly.

 

“I'm serious,” Scott replied. “We need to stop the bloodshed, if it means we offer an olive branch, then that is what we are going to do.”

 

“Over my dead body,” Lydia sneered. “You can't expect me to allow them to get away with what they've done.”

 

“It's not your call, Lydia,” Scott said. “I'm the Alpha, I make the final decisions.”

 

“You may be the alpha of the pack, Scott,” John said quietly. “But that doesn't mean the O'Donnell's are above the law.”

 

“You can't interfere with Pack business,” Scott said. “This has nothing to do with you.”

 

“Bullshit,” John replied. “Those people murdered a law-abiding member of my town. They will be brought to justice and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

 

Scott's eyes turned red. “So what are you going to do if they talk about why they did it? Are you going to expose all of us?”

 

“You actually think they would tell a prosecutor that they killed a woman by accident, because they were targeting her daughter, who happened to be a member of a werewolf pack?” John asked. “Insanity pleas don't work in groups.”

 

“They'll just send more hunters,” Scott replied, his tone made it seem like he was trying to be reasonable. “More people will be hurt or killed.”

 

“Then you are talking conspiracy to commit murder, you are talking hate crime laws,” John said. “You should ask your father about that, as he is a federal law enforcement officer.”

 

Scott glared at him, eyes flashing red again.

 

“Scott,” Stiles called softly. “We need you with us on this. The O'Donnell family's blood feud claim is bullshit and you know it. Capitulating to them will only make the pack look weak in the eyes of the hunters.”

 

“We do this the legal way and they can't touch us,” Derek added.

 

Scott turned to Derek, acknowledging him for the first time. His eyes went wide when he saw the uniform. “What the hell are you wearing?”

 

“Didn't you hear?” Cora asked, smiling. “Big brother got a new job.”

 

“You're a cop?” he said it with such disbelief and disdain that everyone in the room stiffened in offense.

 

“And what is wrong with that?” Stiles replied. “The hunters have infiltrated the local police at least a dozen times in the past two years. I think it's well past time one of the pack to become more proactive in protecting ourselves.”

 

“Why?” Scott demanded. “Why you?”

 

“Well there was this whole thing the other day with the bomb in Stiles' Jeep,” John said. “Derek was the only one fast enough to pull him out, so I deputized him on the spot, for insurance purposes. We talked about it and I thought it would be a great idea to make it official. I can always use new deputies, especially ones that actually know what goes on in this town.”

 

“This is bullshit,” Scott said. “You can't just hire anyone that walks in off the street.”

 

“Do you know what it takes to become a deputy in California?” John asked.

 

“Well, no,” Scott admitted.

 

“It doesn't actually take much,” he replied. “Derek, despite having several arrests has never been charged with a crime in his life. He passed the background checks and the written tests. He is perfectly qualified for the job.”

 

“Derek you need to quit,” Scott said. “What if you wolfed out in the middle of the police station, you're endangering us all.”

 

“No, I'm not,” Derek said calmly. “I've never lost control of my wolf in a public setting. I'm perfectly capable of working this job.”

 

“I don't want you working there,” Scott said. “So you're going to quit.”

 

“You can't force me to quit my job Scott,” Derek said. “Alpha or no, you don't get to make those kinds of choices for me. Unless you really want us all groveling at your feet. Is that the kind of alpha you plan to become? Like Deucalion?”

 

“I'm nothing like him,” Scott said, offended.

 

“Which actually brings up an interesting question,” Peter said from where he was quietly lounging on the couch. “Your mother, what is she to you now? Are you her son or is she your beta? Biting your own parent is considered rather incestuous.”

 

“You shut the hell up!” Scott shouted, eyes going red again. “Or I'll make the last beat down look like a party.”

 

“Try to touch him and you'll have to go through me,” Derek said.

 

“Are you challenging me?” Scott demanded.

 

“No,” Derek replied. “But I'm also not going to let you hurt Peter just because you don't like what he had to say. Especially when he has a point.”

 

Scott growled low, his teeth elongated. His chest seemed to expand in an unnatural way, making him broader and taller than he normally was, claws extended. Everyone came to their feet, ready for him to make the first move.

 

“Back off, Scott,” John said. “You're in my house.”

 

“Stay out of this!” Scott's voice was a barely understandable growl.

 

“Scott!” Stiles shouted. “Stop it! We're not your enemies. We're your friends, your pack.”

 

“Then do as I say!” Scott snarled.

 

“You can't make us do something that is morally wrong, Scott,” Stiles said in an even voice. “And giving in to the demands of murderers is wrong.”

 

Scott stared at him as though he had been slapped. Then his eyes narrowed and he turned to Derek, his eye still glowing with power. “You, Cora, and Peter will join me at the old Hale property day after tomorrow at eight o'clock in the morning,” he growled. “Or I will banish you all from the Pack and Beacon Hills for the rest of your lives.” There were gasps and protest all through the room. “Anyone that protest you can join them as Omegas.”

 

“Don't do this Scott,” Stiles pleaded. “This isn't you.”

 

“What the hell would you know about me?” Scott demanded.

 

“I'm your best friend, Scott,” Stiles replied. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

 

“People change,” Scott replied and stalked out of the house.

 

“Scott!” Stiles shouted after him. He would have chased him down if his father hadn't placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Let him go, Stiles,” John said.

 

“But he can't-”

 

“As the alpha, he has the right and the power to do as he is threatening,” Peter said. “We'll do as he demands, but I doubt he'll like the outcome.”

 

“He's going to betray you to them,” Aiden said. “I could feel it in the pack bond. He has nothing but contempt for you and Derek.”

 

“He doesn't even see me as an issue,” Cora said, hugging herself. “It's like I was an afterthought.”

 

“The three of you are the last of the Hale bloodline,” Stiles realized. “What would happen if you were all killed?”

 

“The blood claim to the land will revert to the tribal claim,” Peter said. “Anyone with enough power could attempt to claim the land if the tribe doesn't assert those rights through the proper rituals.”

 

“They aren't the last,” Danny said quietly. “There is another Hale, Peter. You have a son.”

 

“That isn't possible,” Peter said sharply. “My children died in the fire.”

 

“You had a brief relationship with a woman named Margret Alder,” Danny said.

 

Peter blinked, his jaw dropped in shock. “How the hell did know about that?”

 

“I'll get to that,” Danny said. “She was actually engaged to another man, Gordon Miller, at the time. I'm guessing you were told to back off because she loved her husband to be and wasn't the sort that would have been able to handle the reality of shape-shifters.”

 

Peter nodded. “She had been very sweet, but not the type I normally go for. Talia was very insistent that I break things off.”

 

“The Millers died in a car accident seven months after they got married,” Danny said. “Margret was nine months pregnant, her baby was delivered by the EMTs at the accident sight in order to save it. The boy baby was adopted by a wealthy family named Whittemore.”

 

“Are you fucking with me?” Peter demanded. “That over privileged brat is my son?”

 

“I'd be offended on his behalf if I didn't know how painfully accurate that is,” Danny sighed. “He turned out to be fully human. The Bite turning him into a kanima was more to do with his own emotional issue than anything.” He sighed again. “Anyway, Jackson did some research and found that the Millers had relatives in England, they agreed to do a DNA test and it was found that he wasn't related to them at all. He contacted the Alders and after confirming that he was indeed related to them, they turned over papers that belonged to his biological mother. Those papers contained a letter from her to Jackson that she had given to her lawyer. In it, she confessed her affair with you by name.”

 

“Why didn't he try to contact me?” Peter demanded.

 

“Seriously,” Danny said. “Jackson has massive 'fear of rejection' issues as it is. Would you risk telling your crazy, undead werewolf bio-father the truth after all the shit that happened?”

 

“I suppose not,” Peter admitted.

 

“Anyway he got curious and did one of those mail-in DNA tests. Turns out he had Native American blood in him, which was a hell of a shock. We traced it back here and made the connection that the Hales are all part Patwin.”

 

Derek nodded. “That's true, Mother told me that when I was ten. That is where we get our blood claim from. The Hales claimed the land as a blood right to protect it when the white settlers drove the Patwin out of the area and nearly out of existence.”

 

“You know what? It doesn't matter,” John said. “Because none of you are going to die. We'll let the meeting take place, but we're going to be waiting for them.”

 

“Chances are good that they'll try to pull something on us,” Derek agreed. “So let's make sure they are the ones caught by surprise.”

 

“On that note, I have some calls to make,” John said and headed into his office.

 

 

**

 

Scott entered the hospital room where his mother was getting dressed. She looked good, her color was back and he couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips.

 

“Hey, Mom,” he said. “I'm here to take you home. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, I was a little busy.”

 

“Thank you, honey,” Melissa said, with a frown. “Stiles told me what happened. He also told me that he had called the insurance company and was pretending to be you because you hadn't bothered to take care of the repairs and inspection. The only reason we can go home at all is that he took charge of the issue.”

 

“Yeah, um,” Scott stammered and flushed. He had actually forgotten that the house had been damaged. He just knew that the police had cleared it for them to return. “I was taking care of other things.” He gathered up her things and they headed out of the room and down the hall.

 

“Other things?” Melissa said, dully. “What on earth were you doing?”

 

“I've been trying to find a peaceful solution to the hunters,” Scott said. “This entire thing has gotten out of hand and it has to end.”

 

“Scott, I know you don't like conflict,” she said. “But I don't think you're going to be able to do that. I mean look at what has already happened. Do you really think they'll stop because you want them to?”

 

“If we give them a peace offering they'll have to respect it,” Scott said, once they were out of the hospital.

 

“What kind of peace offering, Scott?” She asked.

 

Scott didn't answer. He kept seeing the look on Stiles' face when he ordered the Hales to meet with the O'Donnells. He knew that once they were gone, his friend would see that he was right. This was the only way to bring peace to their hometown. The Hales were the reason for all their troubles, it would end with their deaths.

 

“Scott?” Melissa called. “I'm really worried about you.” She said after several minutes of driving.

 

“I'm fine, Mom,” Scott said. “It'll all work out.”

 

“I know you believe that, but I'm worried you're putting faith in the wrong people,” she said.

 

“Don't you trust me to do the right thing?” Scott asked.

 

“I think you have the best intentions,” Melissa said. “But you get so caught up in what you think is the right thing to do, you forget that your decisions affect everyone around you.”

 

“Of course I know people will be affected,” Scott said, stung. “Everyone will be better off once this is all over.”

 

“You can't know how others will react, Scott,” Melissa replied. “What if doing what you think is the right thing only hurts people? How will you live with yourself?”

 

“I'm doing what has to be done,” Scott said stubbornly. “You'll see that I'm right and then you'll know that I'm a strong alpha.” They pulled into the driveway of their home, the lights were all out, but there were inspection stickers stating that the house was safe and all the police tape was gone.

 

“I don't care if you're a strong alpha Scott, I care that you're happy,” she replied.

 

“I'll be happy when things get back to normal,” Scott replied. He unlocked the front door with a sigh of relief. He was finally home, with his mother safe beside him. “Why don't you get cleaned up, I can start supper."

 

“I'm fine, Scott,” Melissa said. “Sit down with me and we'll talk about this plan of yours.”

 

“I've got it handled,” Scott replied, annoyed. “You don't need to worry.”

 

“I wasn't asking Scott,” Melissa said. “Sit down and tell me what you're planning. This whole thing affects me too.”

 

The part of him that was the wolf reared its head at her insistence. She was his beta, she didn't get to question his decisions. “You're just as bad as the rest of the pack. Questioning me about everything, I'm the Alpha, I'm in charg-”

 

“I am your mother, I am not someone you get to order around,” she snapped her eyes glowing gold.

 

“Shut up!” Scott shouted. The blow to his face was such a shock he just stood there and touched his face. His mother had just slapped him. He brought his hand down and saw blood. The cuts healed almost instantly, but the blood remained.

 

Melissa stared at him in horror and then down at her bloody claws. “You did this to me, Scott,” she said. “Look what you did to me!” She had tears in her eyes.

 

Scott had made his mother cry. He backed away from her and then ran out the door. This wasn't what he had wanted, he didn't want to make his mother cry. He was doing the best he could. Why didn't anyone understand that? He ignored her attempt to call him back and headed for the trees.

 

 

**

 

The sun was just coming up above the line of mountains to the east. The burned out hulk of the Hale family house stood as a vivid reminder to anyone that saw it of a tragic day ten years before when nearly an entire family had been murdered.

 

Scott stood just off of the front porch where anyone could have easily seen him. Stiles watched intently from the edge of the treeline as Derek, Cora, and Peter all walked forward to join him, none of them looked happy.

 

Scott nodded to them and looked out toward the main access road to the house as a set of headlights could be seen in the last of the shadows. “This will be over soon,” Scott said.

 

The Range Rover stopped at the edge of the trees and two people got out. No one moved as the two came in to clear view.

 

“Hello Sean,” Peter said. “How are those scratches? Still bleeding I hope.”

 

“Shut up, Peter,” Scott growled. His eyes widened as he recognized the petite woman next to Sean O'Donnell. “Meg?”

 

“Hello, Scott,” she said coldly.

 

“But how?”

 

“Are you seriously going to stammer and stutter over the fact that your 'one-night love affair' turned out to be a hunter?” Peter sneered. “Please, I could smell her all over you.”

 

“Shut up, Peter,” Scott snarled.

 

“You really are a pathetic little puppy, McCall,” Meg said. “All I had to do was shake my ass at you and you were like a dog in heat.”

 

Scott flushed. “Let's get this over with.”

 

“Fine,” Sean said.

 

“One thing,” Derek said, tightly. “Where is Ethan?”

 

“Who?” Meghan asked.

 

“Ethan Stein,” Derek replied. “The young man whose boyfriend you tried to kill before you kidnapped him.”

 

“Oh, him,” Sean shrugged. “I wouldn't worry about him if I were you. In fact, he'll be joining you shortly. Get on your knees all of you.” He pulled out a gun and pointed it at Derek's head when no one moved. “I wanted to do this slowly, for the death of my sister, but things are getting far too hot around here. Now kneel!”

 

“No,” Derek said. “I won't kneel before you or anyone.”

 

“I was curious,” Peter said calmly. “Which one of you sabotaged Lydia Martin's car? You killed an innocent woman with that stunt, you know.”

 

“That was a mistake,” Sean said.

 

“And was the bomb in Stiles' Jeep a mistake too?” Cora asked.

 

“Cursed be he that lieth with any manner of beast,” Sean said. “He'll burn in hell for his sin as will the Martin girl. We were just speeding them along to their damnation.”

 

“Hypocritical scribes and Pharisees,” Peter mocked. “Woe be unto you, Sean. After all you did lieth with me for a good six months. How much scourging did Shanahan make you do before she proclaimed you clean of my touch?”

 

Sean turned the gun on Peter, pressing the barrel against his forehead. “Shut up!”

 

“Make me,” Peter replied, unblinking.

 

“Hey, Asshole!” Stiles shouted from the treeline. He was holding up a camera with a parabolic microphone. “Congratulations, you just confessed to murder, attempted murder, and kidnapping.”

 

“Stiles?!” Scott stared in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

“Shut the hell up, Scott,” Stiles replied as he walked into the clearing. “Now you two get to have a nice long stay in Federal Prison.”

 

“Not if your dead,” Meghan pulled out her gun and stalked toward him.

 

“Now see, that is where you're wrong,” Stiles' smile was not kind. “This camera doesn't just record, it broadcasts on a Wi-Fi signal. It is uploading everything onto a cloud drive which belongs to the Beacon Hills police department. So, you are hosed.”

 

“You little bitch,” Meghan spat, her gun hand shaking with anger. There was only twenty feet between them.

 

“You were the one that had sex with Scott, so as derogatory animal insults go, you would be the bitch.” Stiles pointed the microphone at her. “You have anything else you want to confess to?”

 

“You think you're so smart?” Meghan hissed, as she lowered her gun.

 

“I thought it was pretty ingenious actually,” Stiles admitted. “By the way, the house you rented, its being raided by the FBI as we speak. I figure with the old house plans we sent them, they should find the bunker in no time. Depending on the shape we find Ethan in, could bring even more charges against you.”

 

“You think you've won?” Meghan shouted. “My family will never stop coming. You won't know when but they'll come for you all.”

 

“And there go the terrorist threats and witness intimidation,” Stiles replied. “You do know I'm still recording, right? Take a good look at your father, Meghan, this is the last time you be seeing him for a long time. They don't do coed prisons.”

 

There was movement in the trees as the dawning light illuminated the forest. Several deputies came into the clearing, guns drawn. “Weapons down!” Carmichael ordered. “Hands behind your head.”

 

Sean, stunned by the appearance of the police dropped his gun and raised his hands above his head.

 

Meghan didn't move. Her eyes were locked on Stiles.

 

“Don't do it, Meghan,” Stiles said. “Even if you get the shot off, you'll be dead in seconds.”

 

She raised the gun to her own head. “Avenge me, father,” she said.

 

“Meghan, don't!” Sean shouted, even as he was cuffed.

 

Derek tackled her from behind, her gun went flying. “You don't get to be a martyr,” he hissed into her ear. He sat up and pulled her hands behind her back and cuffed her with a pair of zip restrains that was handed to him. “Meghan O'Donnell, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” He continued to Mirandize her even as she struggled.

 

“No!” she yelled. “Not like this! We have to kill them, kill them all.”

 

There was a distant sound, like a pop that echoed through the trees. A second later Stiles spun with the force of the bullet that hit him.

 

“Stiles!” Scott and Derek shouted at the same time. Another shot fired and hit Peter in the leg.

 

“Sniper!” Carmichael shouted. “Get under cover.”

 

“Yes!” Meghan started laughing maniacally, even as Derek dragged her into the safety of the trees. “Yes, kill them all.”

 

“Where is he?” Cora shouted, dragging Peter to the cover of the trees. “I couldn't get a direction.”

 

“West,” Peter said. “The ridgeline.” He dug his fingers into his own wound and ripped the bullet out.

 

“Damn it,” Cora said looking at the bullet. “More of those rune bullets.”

 

“Where are Scott and Stiles?” Peter asked.

 

“I don't know, I didn't see where they went,” Cora admitted.

 

“We need to get that sniper and then find them,” Peter said. “There is no telling what Scott might do.”

 

**

 

Stiles looked up to see a frantic Scott yelling at him, then pulling him away from the center of the clearing. He couldn't catch his breath, the pain in his chest was awful. Scott dragging him by one arm wasn't helping matters. But instead of stopping at the tree line, Scott kept going. Taking them both farther into the preserve.

 

“Scott, stop,” he gasped. “Where are you going?”

 

Scott didn't say anything, he just kept moving. Stiles cried out in pain when he was dragged across a fallen log but all that did was get Scott to hoist him into a fireman's carry. It was then that he realized that Scott had morphed into his alpha form. He was at least two feet taller than he normally was and covered with thick coarse fur that stuck out from everywhere his clothes had ripped.

 

“Scott, you have to stop,” Stiles yelled. “They need our help back there.”

 

“NO!” Scott growled. “You hurt, I get you help. Deaton help.”

 

“I swear, Scott if you don't put me down I'll make you.”

 

Scott laughed.

 

“Fine.” Stiles grabbed the dagger he had hidden in a wrist sheath and stabbed his best friend in the back, literally. Scott howled in pain and dropped him. Stiles rolled to his feet and staggered a little trying to get his balance.

 

“You hurt me!” Scott said sounding betrayed. “Why? I'm trying to help you.”

 

“I'm fine!” Stiles yelled and pulled his shirt up revealing a bulletproof vest. “Do you actually think I would stand in front of a bunch of crazy murdering hunters without taking some precautions?”

 

“But... you were hurt, you weren't moving.”

 

“Of course I wasn't moving, I had the wind knocked out of me,” Stiles said. “We have to get back there and help Derek find the sniper.”

 

“No,” Scott growled. “You're safe, you stay away from Derek.”

 

“Like hell,” Stiles replied. “I'm not abandoning my friends.”

 

“You're MINE,” Scott grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and pushed him up against a tree. “My friend.”

 

“Let go, Scott,” Stiles warned. “I'm not one of your betas that you think you can bully and intimidate.”

 

“No,” Scott pushed his muzzle close to Stiles' neck, inhaling his scent. “But you will be.” His teeth lengthened and he licked his lips in anticipation.

 

“No,” Stiles pushed at him. “Don't even think about it, Scott. Peter offered me the bite once and I told him no. He respected my choice. If you do this, you're worse than Peter. Do you hear me?”

 

“My pack,” Scott said. “My own.” He opened his jaws saliva dripping down his fangs like venom.

 

“I said no!” Stiles shouted as he stabbed upward into Scott's elongated jaw with his dagger. He drove the point up through the lower jaw and piercing the upper palate.

 

Scott reared back, screaming in pain, blood poured from his mouth even as he ripped the blade out of his body. “I'll kill you!” he backhanded Stiles, knocking his head against the trunk.

 

“Scott!” Derek shouted charged out of the trees, he body slammed Scott away from Stiles. “Stiles run.”

 

“I'm not leaving you to face him,” Stiles said. “He's lost his god-damned mind.” He touched the back of his head, relieved that there was no blood.

 

“All the more reason to run,” Derek said.

 

Stiles looked around for his weapon, something he could use to help. Then it dawned on him where Scott had been headed. “Derek, hold him off for five minutes and follow me.”

 

“What are you going to do?” Derek demanded.

 

“Trust me,” Stiles said and he took off running. It was only a few hundred yards away, but it felt like miles with the painful bruising left by the sniper's bullet and the knot forming on the back of his head. When he reached the spot he searched his pockets and pulled out a bag of mountain ash. He poured a circle around the center and sat down in the middle to wait. He closed his eyes and reached inside himself for the spark of power that he had only touched a few times and hoped that he had the strength to do this.

 

He heard frantic footsteps as Derek ran into the clearing. He opened his eyes and stood. “Derek, come into the circle.”

 

“I can't cross mountain ash,” Derek said.

 

“This time you can, step over,” Stiles said, holding out his hand. “Trust me.”

 

Derek stepped up to the ash line and after a moment grasped Stile's hand in his. A moment later he stepped over it. Stiles motioned for him to stand next to him. “I need to ask you something.”

 

“What?” Derek asked as the pounding footsteps of the enraged alpha came closer.

 

“If you had the chance, would you take back the mantle of Alpha,” Stiles said.

 

“If I had to, yes,” Derek said. “But I have no intention of killing Scott.”

 

“If this works, you won't have to,” Stiles replied. He took Derek's hand in his and held tight.

 

Scott broke through the trees and roared in anger when he saw the two of them standing together on top of the Nemeton's stump. He charged at them and bounced off the mountain ash circle. He pounded on the barrier like a wild animal.

 

“I am Mieczyslaw Johnathan Stilinski, by right of blood succession, I claim the title of Emissary of the Hale pack. As Emissary, I claim the nexus of power once known as the Nemeton. This power once corrupted by jealousy and greed will be cleansed.”

 

“Stiles, stop!” Deaton said coming into view from the other side of the clearing. “You don't know what you're doing.”

 

“Alan, how nice of you to join us,” Stiles said coldly. “I couldn't figure out why Scott would be taking me here unless it was on your orders. Were you going to try and use me to gain access to this place?”

 

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Stiles,” Deaton said evenly. “You're not thinking clearly.”

 

“I call upon the powers that be to heed my words,” Stiles said in a steady voice. “By my right as Emissary, I renounce Scott McCall's status as a True Alpha. By his actions, he has proven himself to be a False Alpha, corrupted and controlled by Druid Alan Deaton. As Emissary, I declare Druid Alan Deaton is a false druid and renounce him as a Darach.” The sky that had been bright with morning sunshine darkened with the sudden appearance of thick clouds.

 

“You can't do that!” Deaton shouted. “This land belongs to the emissary of the pack. I'm the emissary.”

 

“I can,” Stiles said. “Because you aren't an emissary, you're a murdering sociopath that likes to mess with people's minds for kicks.”

 

“I don't know what you think you know, Stiles,” Deaton said. “But you're mistaken.”

 

“You killed my mother,” Stiles said. “And you tried to kill me.”

 

“Your mother was sick, she had a brain tumor and she died,” Deaton said, his voice full of pity. “I don't know where you got this idea, but you are obviously deluded.”

 

“We exhumed her body, Deaton,” Stiles said coldly. “We had an autopsy done and had her blood and hair tested. We found myristicin in her body. More than enough to cause hallucinations in a normal human. You were sent here to help, but instead, you manipulated the situation for your own gain.”

 

Scott stopped pounding on the barrier, his head tilted slightly to listen.

 

“No, you're wrong,” Deaton denied. “Scott don't listen to him. He's been corrupted by the power of this place.”

 

“I'm corrupted?” Stiles laughed. “You got what you wanted, you claimed the job of emissary, but it wasn't enough was it? No, you wanted more, because the land wouldn't accept you after what you had done. Not with a strong pack still holding most of the power. So when Kate Argent showed up, you were more than happy to give her a hand, making Derek vulnerable to her charms, despite how she must have reeked of wolfsbane, just like you're doing to Scott now. Exactly how much myristicin do you think we'd find if we tested Scott's blood?”

 

“Scott, think!” Derek shouted. “Myriticin is a psychoactive drug found in nutmeg. How much nutmeg has Deaton given you since you were turned?”

 

Scott whined like a dog, shaking his head in confusion. “Deaton?”

 

“They're lying to you Scott,” Deaton said.

 

“You poisoned my mother and you let her suffer and agonizing, terrifying death,” Stiles gritted out. “You tried to kill me when you pushed me into that ice bath, knowing I would probably drown. The Scion of the Beacon Hills Emissary would be a hell of a sacrifice. If I didn't die, you could still use the idea that I was corrupted by this place to sew dissension and doubt in the pack. But that still wasn't enough, now you're doing the same thing to Scott, poisoning and corrupting him until he can't think rationally.”

 

“You really think he'll believe you,” Deaton asked. “He trusts me to know what the right thing to do is.”

 

“Scott, you're my brother,” Stiles said. “I would never hurt you.”

 

“But you want to be with Derek,” Scott said confused. “You're mine.”

 

“No, I'm not,” Stiles said sadly. “I'm my own person. You don't get to decide who I can be with.”

 

“But you're never around anymore,” Scott said, sounding like a child.

 

“I'm not the one that decided that,” Stiles replied. “You're the one that took the ball and went to play with the cool kids, remember? You can't expect me to wait at home alone until you remember I exist.”

 

Scott reverted to his human form, his eyes wide and wet with tears. There was blood all down his front. “Stiles?” Scott said, holding his head. “What's happening to me?”

 

Deaton shook his head as he walked toward Scott. “This is very disappointing.”

 

Scott turned to face Deaton. “Why would you do this?”

 

“I'm sorry Scott,” he said. “I really do like you, but you are a means to an end.” Stiles didn't even have time to shout a warning when Deaton's closed hand came down on Scott's back. When he stepped away, there was a syringe still hanging on the young alpha's skin.

 

Scott threw back his head and howled. It was a terrifying sound, no evidence of humanity left in his voice. His eyes turned blood-red and he went from human to monster in moments. “Now Scott, break through the barrier and kill them.”

 

**

 

Peter used the house as cover as he searched for the sniper. The Hale house was not the tallest peak in this range of hills and mountains by any stretch, it was however high enough so anyone with sensitive hearing could get away from the constant noise of the town. There were perhaps three vantage points higher than the house that could be used as a sniper's nest.

 

“Can you see them?” Carmichael said, crouching next to him. She had a rifle in one hand and a bulletproof vest in another.

 

“Not as such,” Peter replied, “But I have a direction and a very good understanding of how the land lays around here.”

 

“Put this on,” she ordered, handing him the vest. “It'll stop everything but armor piercing rounds.”

 

Peter looked at it dubiously, then let the officer help him put it on. “Thank you.”

 

“Are you shot?” she asked as her hands came up bloody from touching his clothes.

 

“I'm a quick healer,” he replied.

 

“Like Deputy Hale?” Carmichael asked.

 

“Yes,” Peter replied.

 

“Great,” she smiled. “Get me close enough and I'll take whoever this is out.”

 

Peter narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you sure you can move fast enough?”

 

“Trust me,” she replied.

 

“Try to keep up,” Peter replied. He listened for the next shot, when it came he moved out from the cover of the house and into the line of trees. There were boulders and heavy oaks that had been growing for decades, making for good cover. He didn't run as fast as he could, but his bursts of speed might keep the sniper's attention on him and not the deputy.

 

Five shots were fired in quick succession as they ran. One was close enough that Peter felt the air move above him when he ducked. Carmichael hid behind an oak tree that was twice as broad as she was.

 

“He's using a vintage rifle,” Peter said. “Probably from World War II or earlier.”

 

“How can you tell?” Carmichael asked.

 

“The time it takes him to reload and the number of shots,” said Peter as he ducked when the sniper fired several more rounds. “The bullets are custom-made for people like me.”

 

“Let's hope he doesn't have too many of them,” she replied.

 

“It is possible he might have switched to conventional bullets,” Peter said. “But I'd rather not test that theory.”

 

“Probably a good idea,” Carmichael replied.

 

“We need a distraction,” Peter said. He looked back the way they had come and saw Cora's head poking out from around the house. He sent a sharp bark her way, getting her attention.

 

Cora met his eyes and he pointed to the ridge and then to his eyes. She nodded and pointed at herself and made a running motion with her fingers.

 

He nodded back, hoping she wouldn't get hurt. “One distraction coming up.”

 

A moment later, Cora, if full beta shift, ran out into the open. She let out a howl and sprinted in a zigzag pattern across the clearing. The sniper fired several shots but wasn't able to hit her because of the random direction changes she made.

 

Peter and Carmichael raced up the hill opposite where the sniper was hidden and set up position.

 

“Asshole is wearing a gillie-suit,” she muttered as she set her own rifle in position.

 

“Can you see him,” Peter asked. He could see the sniper clearly, but he wasn't sure if the deputy could.

 

“I got him,” she said, taking aim. “This is the Beacon Hill's Sheriff's office! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up.”

 

Peter stared at her in horror, not only for giving away their position but for giving the man a chance to surrender. Even as he watched, the man turned in his nest, with his rifle still at his shoulder. His face obscured by a camouflaged netting. Carmichael didn't hesitate, she fired twice the first bullet hit the man square in the chest, he staggered back, but his grip remained firm on the gun. The second shot hit him in the head. The back of his skull exploded outward in a spray of blood, bone, and gray matter. The body seemed to take a moment to realize it was dead before it collapsed to the ground.

 

Carmichael slowly stood, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. They approached the body carefully, just n case. She grabbed the sniper's rifle by the barrel with her gloved hand, pulling it away from the body.

 

“Target is down,” she said into her shoulder mic. “Area is secure.”

 

**

 

The creature that had been Scott McCall wasn't even recognizable as the boy Stiles had known most of his life. He felt sick as it shuffled forward, huge arms raised to start pushing through the barrier.

 

“Don't do this, Scott!” Stiles shouted at his friend. “Don't let him turn you into the thing that you hate.”

 

“Don't waste your breath. Scott is mine, Stiles,” Deaton said. “The Nemeton is mine!”

 

“The Nemeton doesn't belong to anyone,” Stiles shot back. “The Emissary doesn't own it, they are the guardian of it, the caretaker, not the master. You're no better than Gerard Argent, only you're trying to turn Scott into your own personal kanima.”

 

Deaton laughed. “Kanima have their uses, but they are fundamentally flawed creations. Scott has proven to be much more amiable to my suggestions than Jackson ever did.”

 

Derek tilted his head like he hadn't quite understood what the druid was saying. “You created the kanima?”

 

“Jackson's emotional problems were very easy manipulated,” Deaton said. “I had hoped to provoke him into killing Derek, but his transformation proved problematic.”

 

“The feedback from using a Kanima for murder rather than for revenge,” Stiles said. “You knew if you used him for your own purposes you would start to transform, just like Matt had.”

 

“You're very smart Stiles,” Deaton said. “It is unfortunate that I have to kill you.”

 

“You're a fool if you really think Scott, even in this form, would try to kill me,” Stiles replied confidently.

 

“Enough talk,” Deaton said. “You've done it before Scott, push through the barrier and kill them.”

 

Scott turned to look at Stiles and roared, but instead of attacking the barrier he lunged at Deaton. His huge maw clamped down on the junction between the druid's neck and shoulder. There was a great gush of blood even as Deaton tried to scream it was cut off as his head was removed from his body. Scott shook the remains of the corpse in his mouth like it was a chew toy.

 

Stiles couldn't look away as his friend tore into the druid's body rending the limbs from the torso and tossing the pieces around the clearing. Ten minutes of horror later and Scott began to stumble. He looked up into the cloudy sky and howled again, this time it sounded like despair.

 

“Scott,” Stiles stepped toward his friend, but Derek stopped him.

 

“Don't, not yet,” Derek said. “He could still attack.”

 

They watched as Scott stumbled and finally fell to the ground. His body seemed smaller, but it was still hideous. Stiles released the mountain ash barrier and ran to his side. “Scott?” He put his hand on the huge neck and felt for a pulse. “Scott, don't do this to me.”

 

“Careful Stiles,” Derek said.

 

“Der-rek,” Scott's eyes opened, they still glowed red. “I can't-” he reached with his claws. “Pack needs an Alpha.”

 

“I'll take care of them,” Derek promised. He touched Scott's hand and he felt a rush of power run through his body. His eyes glowed red as the mantle of alpha settled into him in a more natural way than the first time. Scott's body reverted to his human body, shuttered, and was still.

 

Derek checked his pulse and sighed with relief. “He's alive.”

 

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles gasped. A light wind began to blow, kicking up the mountain ash, which swirled around them.

 

“Are you doing this?” Derek asked.

 

“No, Dude,” Stiles watched as the ash seemed to gather into a mass in the middle of the giant tree stump. “That entire declaration I did, was the biggest fucking bluff of my entire life.” The ash settled into an outline of a human.

 

“ _Mieczyslaw, my beautiful boy.”_

 

“Mom?” Stiles stepped forward as the form became more detailed.

 

“Careful, Stiles,” Derek said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

 

“It's okay,” Stiles assured him. “Mom, why are you here?”

 

“ _You called me,”_ she said. _“You called to all of us.”_ Behind her shadows appeared, over a dozen barely discernible forms.

 

“Emissaries,” Stiles realized. “I didn't mean-”

 

“ _You did nothing wrong,”_ she said in a soothing tone. _“I have waited for a chance for justice. For someone to learn the truth.”_ Another figure appeared in the midst of the other shadows. It looked like Deaton, only he was transparent. The shadows surrounded it and even as it struggled, they pulled it down into the earth and vanished.

 

“What will you do now?” Stiles asked.

 

“ _It is time for me to rest,”_ she said sadly. _“I wish I could stay and teach you, but I have some books that should help.”_

 

“You have to go?” Stiles asked, his voice small and hurt.

 

“ _I'm sorry,”_ she said. _“But please know that I never wanted to leave you or your father. I love you both and always will. Please tell him that there was nothing he could have done, even if he had known the truth.”_

 

“I will,” Stiles promised, tears starting to blur his vision.

 

“ _Stiles, as the new Emissary, I can give you one gift.”_ She bent down and touched the stump of the dead tree. Her form dissolved in a swirl of leaves and dust as the wind picked up, then before their eyes, the stump crumbled into dust from the center outward. The wind picked up and the dust was pulled into the air in a whirlwind. The wind carried the dust away to the west, where Stiles had little doubt that it would be tossed into the ocean. The ground where the roots had been buried collapsed in on itself until all that was left was the gaping hole. The air felt cleaner, less oppressive, already.

 

Stile knelt next to the hole and looked down, he felt Derek come up behind him and touch his shoulder.

 

“Are you alright, Stiles?” Derek asked.

 

“I don't know,” he replied, wiping at his eyes. “I feel like a weight have been lifted, but I'm only just realizing how much of a load I was carrying.”

 

“Come on,” Derek said. “We have to get Scott to the hospital.”

 

**

 

Two months later:

 

The pack watched as the demolition contractor's crew dismantled the remains of the Hale family home. The charred building should have been taken down safely years ago, but the ghosts of the past could not rest until the full truth was known. Now as each beam fell, it felt like the souls of those lost were finally free.

 

Issac was dealing with some flashbacks from his ordeal, but it was hoped he would recover quickly. He didn't like to talk about what had happened, but Derek put feelers out for a psychologist that was knowledgeable in both the paranormal and PTSD. The first place he was pointed to, was a local psychiatric hospital called Eichenwald. It took five minutes of googling the place to decide that there was no way in hell he was going to let anyone in his pack spend five minutes there let alone the hours it would take for a 'full evaluation'.

 

The doctor they found in LA appeared to be well grounded in both the paranormal and psychological trauma. Issac was having weekly visits for now and they would see where things went after six months of visits.

 

Ethan spent a week in the hospital after the SWAT team had found him in the underground bunker. The removal of the bullet from his spine had sped up his recovery. Both he and Aiden were talking about taking an extended vacation away from Beacon Hills in order to figure out what it was they wanted to do with their lives.

 

Derek made it very clear to both of them that he would allow them back into his pack, but only if they made a detailed list of all the people they knew of that the Alpha pack had killed. He refused to be caught blindsided by another group of wolves or hunters out for revenge.

 

“So, this was where it all started?” Mason asked. He and his best friend Liam had been brought into the fold and the truth explained to them. They had taken the news as well as could be expected. They made it through their first full moon without too much trouble.

 

“Yes,” Derek replied. “And this is where it ended. I hope you can forgive Scott one day for what he did to you.”

 

“I'm not going to say that I'm okay,” Mason admitted. “But knowing he wasn't in his right mind... it helps.”

 

“What happened to McCall anyway?” Liam asked. “His mother was tight-lipped about it. Just said that he wasn't the alpha anymore.”

 

“The drug that Deaton was using caused serious damage to Scott's mind,” Stiles said sadly. “He'll recover, but it'll take a long time. He's been placed in a long-term care facility. We all visit with him once a week to let him know we haven't abandoned him.”

 

“So you're just going to leave him like that?” Liam asked.

 

“I might be the Emissary for the Hale pack but I'm no healer,” Stiles admitted. “I barely understand what it is an emissary is supposed to do, let alone use the power the office holds. Werewolves can heal from almost anything given enough time and that is what we are going to give him.”

 

“What happened with the hunters?” Mason asked.

 

“Almost the entire adult O'Donnell family line has been arraigned on charges ranging from weapons trafficking to murder,” Derek said. “With the taped confessions of Sean and Meghan and the death of Patrick O'Donnell, the guy who was the sniper, the case is rock solid. None of them are going to see daylight for a very long time. Unfortunately, there were about a dozen minors swept up in the raids, they are all going into foster care if suitable homes can't be found.”

 

“And the blood feud?” Mason asked.

 

“I declared it over,” Stiles said firmly. “Turns out Meghan wasn't nearly as careful as she claimed to be. She's pregnant with Scott's baby and her religious beliefs won't allow her to have an abortion no matter that she thinks it's an abomination.”

 

“I visited her in prison,” he continued. “She was deemed a flight risk and was denied bail. I explained our side of the story and our willingness end the feud on the condition that she allow Melissa to take legal custody of the baby if it manages to survive to full term.”

 

“The baby will be a member of the pack, we're all going to make sure that he or she is a happy and healthy child,” Derek added.

 

“That's cool,” Mason said. “And the house?” He motioned to the demolition taking place.

 

“We're going to build several smaller houses for anyone that wants to stay here during the full moon,” Derek replied. “But we aren't going to be hermits. With all the media coverage of the FBI investigation and the links back to the murder of my family, the pack has become very high profile. Even Peter has had a miraculous return from the dead. The public is eating up his tragic story of faking his death and going into hiding.”

 

“The bastard is actually planning on opening that restaurant he always wanted,” Stiles added with a snort. “He and Jackson Whittmore have been talking via Skype on and off for the past month. They have tentative plans to meet in person during next winter break.

 

Derek checked his watch. “ And on that note, I have to get to work.” He leaned into Stiles personal space and stole a quick kiss. “Keep an eye on the place while I'm gone.”

 

“Get going, Dad will be waiting,” Stiles grinned. “I'll hold the fort.” He watched as Derek climbed into the department cruiser and headed into town. Things were far from perfect, but having taken out a major hunting family, not by killing, but by using the legal system, they had proven themselves to be more dangerous than any pack in history.

 

If anyone else tried to harm them, they would use every option available to make them regret it. Beacon Hills belonged to them and they would protect it no matter what.

 

End

 


End file.
